


Harry Potter and The Heir of House Greengrass

by SazzyLJ



Series: Cascades of Change [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 88,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SazzyLJ/pseuds/SazzyLJ
Summary: Daphne Greengrass finds herself in the confidence of Hermione Granger in their 4th year at Hogwarts.  Can a group of teens learn to navigate love, friendship, identity and lies in the face of a deadly threat?  How will this change Harry Potter's destiny?
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Daphne Greengrass
Series: Cascades of Change [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664503
Comments: 104
Kudos: 165





	1. A Ripple in the System

The only sign of tension in Daphne was the way she had crumpled the piece of parchment in her palm. It was an odd invitation, but she had seen Granger write it before passing it to her. The muggle born was not generally one for conspiracy or pranking, but the Slytherin in her couldn't help but be suspicious as she stepped into the abandoned classroom.

"Daphne?" The voice that called out to her from the shadows was husky and hesitant.

"Hello. You wanted to see me privately?" She walked deeper into the dusty and obviously abandoned room.

"Thank you for coming." Hermione stepped into the light that seemed to come from no where. "I wasn't sure that you would."

"How could I resist such an intriguing invitation?" She let a coy smile play about her lips and hoped that her humor would not be used against her.

When the curly haired brunette stopped in front of one of the filthy desks, she noticed that a slim book rested atop the dust. Her brow crinkled at the oddness of this moment. _Why bring me here to show me a book? Doesn't she have enough study friends for such things?_

"I found that book on the floor outside the Great Hall two days ago." Daphne arched one brow. A lost item outside of the Great Hall was hardly cause for comment. The other girl smiled in apparent acknowledgment of the point. "I might have only returned it to the library, but I started reading it."

At that, Daphne frowned at her in censure and concern. "You found an abandoned book and opened it? Did you at least make an effort to ensure that there wasn't some compulsion on it or take any precautions?"

Hermione's face flushed in answer. "I guess if you're so good at preventing such things, you don't really need my warning." She let out a fast breath. "But I thought you should know that I found your timetable, obviously copied, in a book of love and compulsion potions."

The idea of someone actually targeting her hit like a punch to the gut. "Bloody hell…" Daphne sank into a dusty desk chair. "You really mean it?"

The other girl's voice softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry to have brought you such a shock." She settled a gentle hand on her shoulder in support. Silence fell between them for a long moment.

As the moment drew on, the pureblood heiress drew a steadying breath and settled her hand on top of the other girl's. "I've always known that a time would come that others would target me this way." As she met the warm brown eyes of her peer, she found herself trusting in a way she feared she might lose the ability to do. Oddly, she wanted to confide in the earnest and well meaning girl.

"The House Greengrass follows strict primogeniture. I am the heir of one of the oldest and wealthiest houses in Magical Briton. As the oldest Greengrass, I have always known that I would eventually be an attractive prospect for grasping younger sons of poorer houses, but there are so few of us anymore that I thought I had a few years before I had to worry about it. I guess I'm too trusting. After all, it's one thing to consider in the hypothetical. It's an entirely different matter to try and decide which of our classmates wants to drug me into compliance."

"Oh Daphne! It's a dreadful thing to think of! I don't understand how you can be so calm at the idea of someone trying to force you into a relationship!" Hermione was obviously distressed on her behalf. In some odd way, it was reassuring to hear such outrage at the idea.

"You're very kind to be so appalled that someone would conspire to take my hand by compulsion. It's odd to think, but the fact that you find it so horrifying is, somehow, a comfort. As though it shouldn't be as normal as I've been taught to expect." She felt a cynical smile cross her lips.

"Of course it's not normal! What are you expected to do to protect yourself? Cast a revealing spell on everything before you touch it? Paint your nails with detection potions so that they change colors if there's contaminants? Why are you responsible for keeping someone else from stealing your will?" The girl's righteous indignation was so sincere that it drew Daphne in.

"You have a strong sense of justice, Hermione. It's refreshing." Her smile turned genuine. "I do have a responsibility to protect myself, but I don't believe that absolves whoever this is from their crimes." She waved a hand at the book and timetable. "Not everyone in our world would agree with me on that point."

Hermione sighed. "I wish that I could say the Muggle world was better about it, but victim blaming is still a common defense. Instead of 'She should have been more diligent.' It tends to be 'She shouldn't have been at that place.' Either way, it's still disgusting."

She hummed in agreement. _I wouldn't have thought that I would like you... Maybe there's more to you than I thought._ "There are a few things I could teach you to protect yourself. Would you be interested in learning them?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" Hermione gave a bright and relieved smile.

"Good." Daphne pointed her wand at the book. "You start by bringing your wand tip in a half circle, lefthandwise. As you reach the zenith point, you slash down and to the right. The incantation is revelium." The book lit up in a watery blue glow. "That means that there have been threatening spells associated with it in the past, but they are no longer effective. You'll find that on nearly any library book, I'm afraid."

"What if there was an active threat?" The other girl was obviously pleased by a new spell but also seemed disturbed by the idea of someone cursing books that everyone was expected to use.

"The colour will indicate the threat level and capacity for harm. Black is for mortally perilous. Red is for injurious. Purple is for compulsory. White is completely clear, and grey is inconclusive." She smiled at the sound of her voice mimicking her mother's lecture mode.

"Why would it be inconclusive?" She sounded concerned by the idea.

"Every spell has limitations. In this case, inconclusive could mean a poorly cast spell with bad intent. It could also mean that effort was made to conceal the spells that were cast or even that they were directed at a specific person but you aren't that target." She met Hermione's animated gaze. Her curiosity almost made her beautiful instead of simply pretty. "This is a family spell so most concealing spells won't fully obfuscate their presence. It isn't perfect, but most people won't have a way to defend against it fully."

When the other girl nodded, she continued. "Now, I want you to try it. Cast it on the book first since you know what the result should be."

It took a few tries, but soon the book was once again glowing a watery blue. Both girls grinned proudly at each other. "Very good! Do it a few more times to make sure you have it. Then we'll work on how to cast it so that only you see the results."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title respectfully borrowed from the poem A New Friend by Sarah Sissom  
> 


	2. To Seek Another's Profit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne and Hermione meet in the library and bond over common interests and new ideas.

Across Hermione's parchment was an odd jumble of words. Society, Alliance, Guild and Collective were written neatly across the top. Below them was a line with Elvish, House Elf and Elf-Kind. As she began to draw a careful P halfway down the page, she heard the chair next to her scrape back from the small library table.

  
She was pleasantly surprised to see Daphne smiling sweetly at her. "Mind if I join you?"

  
"I would like that very much!" Hermione felt her lips stretch into a wide answering smile and waved a hand to welcome the girl that had become a reliable friend in the past few weeks.

  
The lovely Slytherin settled herself in the only other chair in the secluded corner and turned to face her. "I know you said that you had the best spot in the library, but you didn't tell me it was so private."

  
"Well," she felt her cheeks warm with a flush. "It helps that most of the other students are outside enjoying the day or , after last night's announcement, daring each other to try their luck with the protections on the Goblet of Fire."

  
"Ugh" Daphne rolled her eyes dramatically. "I can't believe that the Headmaster only put an age line around the Goblet instead of some truly proper protections." She chuckled a bit. "It's only a matter of time before someone puts that to the test. The Slytherin boys have a betting pool on who besides the Weasley twins will do it."

  
Happy laughter bubbled up a bit inside Hermione at the wit of her new friend. "Besides the Weasley's? I suppose the consensus is that they are a guarantee?"

  
"Oh they have a dedicated wager pool. I've not paid it much mind, but I am confident that it's quite a complex mix of possibilities. I'm sure you've noticed that most wizarding males will bet on anything." She sounded amused and superior as only another girl could when talking about the more impulsive sex.

  
"Really?!" Hermione knew her surprise was in her voice and reminded herself to keep it quiet. It wouldn't do to be evicted from the library after all. "I've not noticed that. I would have thought that, if that were so universal, I'd have found it out from Ron? Given his skill at chess, I would think he would use gambling to win some pocket money."

  
Daphne had a thoughtful look on her face. "There's a reason he doesn't..." She trailed off for a short moment. "I suppose it didn't occur to me until just now how isolated you must be from some aspects of our culture. With so many Weasleys in your house, the rest of the Gryffindor boys probably take their betting elsewhere out of consideration."

  
Hermione's brow was still creased in confusion. Before she had to ask for clarification, her new friend seemed to realize that she had left too much unsaid and continued talking. "Arthur Weasley's grandfather gambled away everything the family owned. He racked up so much debt that the entire family was thrown into dishonor. The ministry stepped in and took ownership of his debts to keep from sending the other houses and businesses into bankruptcy. Even their seat on the Wizengamot was suspended until his debts are paid in full."

  
She could feel her shock transform her face. _This sounds archaic, but it explains so much!_ "His descendants are responsible for those debts? That's horribly unfair! It means that the Weasleys are in debt the moment they're born!"

  
"The wretched man was Head of the family at the time, that's why the debts are owed in perpetuity. I can understand why they wouldn't discuss it. This generation of Weasley's has probably accepted that they'll be paying those debts for the rest of their lives." She shook her head in apparent sympathy.

  
"There is still so much about this world that I don't know." Hermione's thoughts came out as a whispered lament.

  
Daphne settled a supportive hand on her shoulder. The simple affection rallied her a bit. "You have me to teach you now."

  
She gave a half hearted smile at that. "Please know that I appreciate you being patient enough to do it."

  
Daphne laughed lightly. "Well, the way you learn, I'm sure that you'll be an expert in time. Perhaps you can write a muggle-born's guide book one day?"

  
The encouragement went the rest of the way to restoring Hermione's natural good cheer. She smiled brightly and patted the graceful hand that lingered on her shoulder. "Thanks, I really appreciate that. And I like the idea of a wizarding Britain guidebook."

  
"So, what were you working on when I came in? You looked very serious." The change in subject was not unwelcome, but Hermione filed the idea of a wizarding guidebook away for later consideration.

  
"I'm determined to help the enslaved house elves of our society!" She kept her voice firm even as Daphne's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  
"I think..." she started her response slowly, obviously taken off guard. "I think I need a bit of context for that statement."

  
 _This is one of my favorite things about you_ , Hermione thought to herself. _You don't react rashly._

  
"I first found out about house-elves after our second year, but, I'm ashamed to say, I didn't really question their situation enough at that point." She looked down at her parchment, aware of the return of a guilty and sick feeling in her stomach.

  
"Hermione, you were petrified by a basilisk. I think you should forgive yourself for being a bit distracted." She covered one of her cool hands with her paler and warmer one. "What happened that brought them back to your attention?"

  
Steadied again, Hermione met her friend's eyes. "There was a house-elf at the Quidditch World Cup that was forced to save a seat for her master. Poor dear was terribly afraid of heights. When all the chaos from the Death Eater attack started, she tried to get way. When her master found her, she was unconscious, but she had a wand next to her that was found to have summoned the Dark Mark.

Despite the evidence being ridiculously flimsy, Mr. Crouch berated her and freed her even as she begged him not to. It's the second time I've ever known a house-elf, and the second time I've known them to be horribly mistreated!"

  
She drew a breath, catching the rhythm of her righteous indignation, but was stopped by a question. "Who was the first?" Daphne's brow was creased in thought. "You said Crouch, I assume Bartemious Crouch, was the second."

  
"Lucious Malfoy was Dobby's master. He was awful to him! Harry said that every time he saw Dobby that year he would have to stop the poor guy from punishing himself! I suppose that vile man was too busy to brutalize him himself." Scorn dripped from her voice as she described the awful situation. "Dobby found out about a threat to Harry and tried to help him. When Harry got the chance to return the favor, he tricked Malfoy into giving Dobby clothes."

  
"Hermione, I wish I could say that it surprised me to know how poorly those elves were treated... but Crouch and Malfoy are opposite sides of the same Galleon. Of course everyone knows about Malfoy's association with the Death Eaters, but Crouch was considered to be just as bad. My father says that during the war, he would incarcerate witches and wizards for any infraction. He even advocated for interrogation under Imperious!" Daphne's voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "They say that he threw his own son into Azkaban on flimsy evidence just to try and save his prospects for election as Minister of Magic!"

  
Hermione shuddered at the idea of that odious man having even more power. "I can't say that I'm surprised given what I've learned of him. But it's not just him and Malfoy. There are house elves here at Hogwarts as well! They do all the work to care for us but aren't paid. The poor creatures are plainly enslaved and I'm going to help free them!"

  
Daphne shook her head as though to clear it and removed her hand back to her lap. "Hermione, have you tried to talk to the Hogwarts elves? Asked them what they get for their effort?"

  
"Dobby has told me -" For the first time in their friendship, Daphne cut her off.

  
"Not Malfoy's family elf. That's another issue entirely. Have you actually tried to talk, with an open mind, to the Hogwarts elves?"

  
She drew a steadying breath. "No. It's hard for me to see the difference, but you're saying there is one. What don't I know?"

  
"Hogwarts was a sanctuary before it was a school. In order to honor that legacy, Helga Hufflepuff embedded protections for house elves into the school charter. Later revisions of the charter have left that and other provisions related to the Forbidden Forest unchanged. It is still magically binding." Daphne's voice was composed, but Hermione felt her distance in the way she folded her hands into her lap.

  
"I've read Hogwarts a History through at least six times. Why doesn't it mention any of this?" She was hopeful at the prospect of finding out that she had not blindly eaten the fruits of slave labor for over three years.

  
"I'm not certain why it would be omitted from there, but the story is in a biography of Helga Hufflepuff that my mother owns." The sick feeling in her stomach eased a little at Daphne's revelation.

  
"But they still aren't paid." She wanted to believe, but she had to be sure she was not deluding herself. _I could never forgive myself if I failed to help them overcome some sort of awful brainwashing to become free._

  
"No, they aren't paid in gold, but it seems they are contented with the compensation they do receive. At the very least, you should ask them what they really get from the arrangement and whether they would even want something different."

  
She sat and thought about it for a long and silent moment. "You're right. Before I decide for them what they ought to want, I should talk to them and understand what they do want and how, or even if, I can help them." She heaved out a sigh, disappointed in herself. "I never thought I'd find myself in empathy with Rudyard Kipling."

  
"Now now, you're hardly advocating conquering the kitchen to save the house elves from themselves! Though, I must say that I'm delighted by the esoteric reference." Her friend's tone was gently teasing.

  
"You like poetry?" Hermione asked, startled out of her self-condemnation. "Who's your favorite classic poet? Do you read any contemporary works? Are there poets in the magical world? Oh! Silly me, of course there are. How do they compare to muggle ones?"

  
By the time she stopped for a breath, Daphne was smiling at her again. That sight, coupled with the chance to share her passion for lyric and verse, made her decide to set her lingering house elf concerns aside for a moment in order to enjoy her friend.

  
_Perhaps when I consider the issue with a fresh mind, I'll know which is the right next step._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from The White Man's Burden by Rudyard Kipling.


	3. To Tend to Others' Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to Dobby to try to understand the House Elf situation.

Hermione paced across the floor of the disused classroom that Harry had discovered. The secret passages on The Marauder's Map were useful, but the one that had led to this room was labyrinthine. Harry had seemed disappointed that the curved side branch had led only to this room. The secret had been part of her birthday gift. She was slowly setting it up as her own personal study and practice room.

On that day, her mind was not on her plans for a home away from the noise and chaos of the Gryffindor common room. Instead, her thoughts swirled with her conversation with Daphne.

_Have I really missed the nuance of the house elf situation again? How can I find out if my goals are truly freeing them from slavery or just some malefic generosity based on projecting my culture on them?_

On a poorly repaired table behind her, a puny stack of books stood testament to the dearth of writing on house elf culture. There were only three volumes in the whole library, and they seemed to reference each other more than represent independent research. Only her love of the written word had kept her from throwing the last book down in disgust as it repeated instructions on the appropriate space for an elf nest for the fourth time.

_Well, I had wanted to go into a conversation with the house elves better informed. I suppose I am as informed as the Hogwarts library can make me. Come on Hermione - Gryffindors charge ahead, and that includes new social situations._

With that pep talk, she stopped her pacing, drew her magic to her, and called. "Dobby, would you please come here?"

The excitable little elf landed next to her books on the table. Before he could launch into a frantic tangent as Harry had said was his habit, her repair work failed. He, the table and the books all collapsed with a crash to the stone floor.

"Oh! My goodness!" She rushed to his side, self-recriminations flailing for attention in her mind. "Dobby, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

He righted himself before she could reach his side and surveyed the damage. "Missy Hermione, I just fine! Whats is this awful table doing heres where it could hurt you? This won't do at all!"

With a snap of his fingers, the table was gone. It was replaced with another one, just as worn, but stable. "Theres. That's be much better. The great Harry Potter's missy Hermione can't has something so damaged."

He waved his hand and the books were placed on the table in the same configuration they had before. It was only then that Dobby seemed to realize that the whole room was in abandoned disarray. "This won'ts do at all. Don't yous worry, missy Hermione. Dobby be cleaning this up right away!"

She held up a hand to forestall him. "I appreciate that very much, Dobby, but that isn't why I called you."

His ears drooped a little in confusion. "Then, hows can Dobby help?"

"I was hoping you would be willing to talk with me? I have some questions that I hope you will answer." She watched his long ears and large eyes for signs that he was agreeable.

His ears perked back up and flicked a bit wildly. She smiled, reminded of Crookshanks. "Clever missy wants to ask Dobby for answers? Dobby would be honored!"

Her smiled morphed into a relieved laugh. To her shock, he popped away and then back with two squishy arm chairs and a small table. The items were dusty with disuse and had signs of botched repair. As he snapped his thin fingers again, they were cleaned and fixed. Then they flew into a cozy conversational configuration in the far corner of the room.

The brilliant little elf was bouncing on his toes in apparent glee as a small mismatched tea tray appeared on the little table. Another snap had them both settled into their respective chairs across from each other.

Hermione could feel her happy grin stretch wide across her face. Magic was wonderful, and house elves were completely amazing. "Dobby, this is delightful! Thank you so much!"

He reached for a cup and served her. "Dobby is pleased that yous like the chairs, missy Hermione. Theys wasn't being used cause the breaks from cursing had to wear off fores anyone could fix them. Then they got forgotten. Yous can use them here or anywhere cause noones will miss them."

"You are brilliant!" She took a sip of tea, perfectly sweetened and the exactly right temperature. "I'm extraordinarily grateful! I was worried to pull you from your work, but you've made me so happy that I did."

"Dobby can always come to help the great Harry Potter or his friends. Headmaster says that when he hires Dobby." His ears flicked again, and he seemed to vibrate a little.

"Thank you so much. I'll not feel guilty the next time then." She gave him her most grateful smile so that he would know she was sincere. "Are you sure that you're alright with me asking you questions? I can't promise that they will be easy for you to answer."

"Missy Hermione is the cleverest witch in Hogwarts. Dobby is honored to answer even hard questions if hes knows it." He met her eyes with an earnest expression.

"I really appreciate that." She took a bracing sip of her tea, trying to decide how to start. "How did you come to work at Hogwarts?"

"I hads looked at shops and workshops and even Gringotts for new works..." His ears dropped a little. "No ones wanted a free elf, and Dobby's not wanting a new family."

Her heart ached at the idea of him, alone in the world. "Why did no one want a free elf, Dobby?"

"Free elves don't have to protect theys masters secrets. A family elf can't tell secrets, even if theys want to." He looked down at his feet, dangling off the edge of the chair. "I offers oaths, but... most wizards don't understands elf oaths so theys not trust them or me."

"Oh, Dobby. I trust you!" She wanted to jump from her chair and hug him in comfort but held back.

"Thanksy, missy Hermione. Headmasters said the same. Hes said that hes trust me to puts Hogwarts and the great Harry Potter firsts. That’s why hes hired me to works here." He nodded in emphasis. "I likes it here, mostly. I gets one Galleon a week for mys work." His ears flicked down and his feet stilled for a moment. "Hes wanted to pay me more, but I bargains him down."

"Why ever did you bargain him down, Dobby?" Her surprise came through in her voice.

"It shameful enough for a house elf to takes money over a bonds... if I was earned too much, the other house elves woulds not let me works at all!" He sounded dismayed at the prospect.

"Dobby" Hermione was grateful for a segue into something that had confused her mightily. "Why do the other house elves consider it shameful to receive pay?"

His ears flattened against his head, and she felt a pang at causing him distress. "A good elf doesn't ask for whats they don't need."

"They think you don't need the money?" She was still confused.

"Dobby don't... I get alls I need here, bond or no. i buries my wage by the angry tree at the lake." He whispered the last as though it were a terrible shame.

"I don't understand." She echoed his whispered tone.

"I.." For the first time since she met him, the elf was completely still. "I asks for wages cause I couldn't bear another bond rights yet. A bonds need trust, and I don't know hows I could bears to trust anymore. I asks for wages cause wizards only understands ones or the others."

"Oh Dobby..." Tears filled her eyes at the hurt that he must have endured. "My heart hurts for you."

"Don't cries for Dobby, missy Hermione. Dobby has it pretty goods for all that. I has a home here and friends in the best witch and wizards ever known! Is thinks this is as goods as a Dobby could ever have a life anymore." He nodded so enthusiastically that his shoulders and torso seemed to nod with him.

"Dobby, are you counting me in that list of friends? What a privilege!" She smiled at him but her tears kept flowing out. "Sorry, I think you've turned on my happy tears."

"Please don'ts be sorry for being happy, missy Hermione! I loves to feel you happiness! Its warmer than the hearths fires in the kitchens!" He bounced a little in his chair at this pronouncement.

"Would it be alright if I hugged you?" She was a little hesitant, but he did not seem to share her reticence. Before she could finish her question, he had popped directly in front of her. When she set her teacup on the arm of her chair, he flung himself into her arms.

After they finished sharing their hug, he popped back to his chair. Happiness seem to excrete from his pores, and he seemed to glow. "Dobbys can feel how grateful missy Hermione is for him. Such is an honor likes I never hads before. I thinks I could cleans the whole of Hogwarts off missy Hermione's regard."

Suddenly, she felt like something had clicked into place. "Is that how you really get rewarded? Appreciation?"

Shyly, he nodded. "Witches and wizards leak happies magic when theys grateful for us... when theys loves us. It's how wes eat, and grow, and live." His bulbous eyes seemed to glisten with emotion. "Its alls we really ever want. Whens we get it... wes works so hard just to keep from buzzing away withs joy!"

"Dobby," For the first time in weeks, she felt a weight lift from her heart. "I'll always be grateful for you. You're my friend! There's nothing so precious as that!"

Suddenly, he bounced out of his chair. "Dobbys can't be still anymore with all the happies!" He began to rapidly pop to different places in the room and zealously clean the decades of dust from the floor, walls and ceiling.

Hermione grinned widely and wiped the tears from her cheeks. _If they get rewarded with appreciation, then wages are of no use and days off might even be unpleasant. I think I'll need to get more information, though. Surely there's a way to protect bonded elves from abuse?_

The room was cleaned with amazing speed, and Dobby popped himself back into his chair. His glow seemed to have diminished, and he was able to sit more still after all the frantic activity. "Dobbys will do more for missy Hermione's room. Does missy Hermione has more questions?"

"I do actually." She met his eyes. "Could you tell me about the bond between an elf and a witch or wizard?"

She felt a pang of guilt when he seemed to curl in on himself as thought trying to make himself smaller. "Dobby will tells what Dobby knows." He seemed hesitant but continued. "Dobbys was bonded to good mistress Medusa at firsts. Good mistress was kind and gentles. Shes was the ones to tell Dobbys of the great Harry Potter." His eyes took on a far away look. "Shes was cursed by bad master's father. Afters, shes was not ables to do normal magics. Bad master took hers and Dobbys into his home and did ritual to force Dobby's bond to him."

"Why did your bad master take her in?" Hermione was conflicted. She regretted bringing up such painful memories, but she was also caught up in the story.

"Good mistress was sister to bad master's father. Bad master wanteds to hide the family shames." He fidgeted in his chair, and his earlier giddiness evaporated. "Transfer of bonds was painful for Dobbys and good mistress. But bad master was afraids that Dobby wouldn'ts keep his secrets withouts it."

"Is that all the bond is good for? Forcing secrets?" She frowned in thought. Something was still missing.

"Oh no, missy Hermione. At bests times, a bond is family. A bonded elf can always finds theys witch or wizard. Theys can cares for them better than anyones else. Sometimes, they can evens heals them!" His voice squeaked a little at the explanation. Then his ears drooped sadly. "Dobbys was healing good mistress dailys before bad master stole the bond. Then good mistress was gone, and Dobbys was sad. Dobbys still cries for mistress Medusa." Tears fell from his bulbous eyes, and his thin little shoulders shook with the effort to hold in his sorrow.

This time she did not wait for permission but rose from her chair and hugged him in comfort. He gave a choked sob and clutched her tightly. From her shoulder, she heard him say, "Good mistress was kind and loving and grateful for Dobby. Dobby misses his good mistress."

With tears of empathy streaming from her eyes, she held him as he wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Caregiver Poem by Ryann Huff.  
> https://caregiver.com/cg-community/careverses/caregiver-poem/


	4. Ponder the Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron considers his options for entering his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Ron felt a twinge of jealousy that he tried to drown in smugness. Even in failure, the twins got so much attention. _Is Angelina braiding Fred's beard?_ He grunted in aggravation as he moved to take Ginny's pawn.

Calling out over the din of the Gryffindor Common Room, he taunted his brothers. "Oi, you two get help eating your mushy peas at dinner?"

His question got a few laughs from around the common room. George, in his eternal good humor, was the one to reply. "Not this time. Thinking I'll ask Alicia to feed me tomorrow if we're not back to normal. Either that, or come up with a way to turn us all this way!"

He and Fred laughed at the winces and groans that came from around the room. "When are you going to give it a try, Ickle Ronnikins? The week's half gone, and you've not tried to enter once!"

At the sound of that hated nickname, Ron felt his face flush. Barely looking at the board, he used his bishop to take another of Ginny's pawns. "Now Fred," George chimed in. "After the howler he got last time he got detention, do you really think he wants to test the wrath of Mum?" They both pantomimed in exaggerated horror. 

Ron joined in the laughter in room as he turned his eyes back to the board. His attention was still on the conversations around them as Seamus piped up. "What all has anyone tried to get round the age line?"

"Well, the aging potion, obviously..." Alicia handed some sort of bead to Angelina as she answered. "I wrote my name on a rock and chucked it. The Goblet launched it back out! It nearly took Cedric Diggory's head off."

Angelina started braiding another lock of Fred's beard. "I tried levitation first go out, but the Goblet incinerated the paper. I also heard that one of the seventh year Puffs was charging 5 Galleons a name to put them in for people. The ones that the people wrote themselves seemed to go ok, but when he tried to write someone else's name for them, the Goblet singed him so bad that he had to go to the Hospital Wing."

As the conversation continued, Ron felt vaguely sick to his stomach. _I wish I'd never said a word about entering. Now, if I don't try, I'll be a coward. Even if I do try, nothing will be ingenious enough to live up to what Fred and George did._ He absently made another move. _Maybe if I can get a post owl to drop it in? Wait, no, that Ravenclaw tried that and now the school owls won't go near him._ He smirked a bit, envisioning yesterday at breakfast. _When that owl just dropped his letter from the rafters of the Great Hall, it ended up dropping into Cho Chang's hair. She shrieked at him and dumped his juice on his head._ He tuned back into the conversation in time to hear someone ask Harry about his prospects.

"I've no intention of entering! I'm actually looking forward to watching from the stands this go round." Harry's voice was sincere, but in that moment, it grated.

 _Course you're content to sit this one out, mate. You're already rich and famous. Me? I'll have to work to make a name for myself. At this point, it's nigh impossible to do anything that someone else in my family's never done. Even if I made Head Boy, I'd be the 3_ _rd_ _Weasley son to get it._ He grimaced unhappily at his own thoughts and then frowned thunderously when Ginny took his knight.

"Well, Ron," Seamus drew him back into the conversation. "When you going to give it a go? Curfew's not for another two hours if you decide to try for it tonight."

Inwardly, he flinched, but he put on his most confident tone to reply. "Tonight? No, I'm still working on my plan. Seems that's what led to loads of the failures so far. Poor planning."

Fred, seemingly unhappy by the implication, was the one to reply. "Oh, yeah. How long you figure it'll take you to come up with this grand scheme? Only 3 more days left after this one you know."

"I'll use up as much time as I need. A chess master never rushes his strategy." He was proud that the nerves he felt did not sound in his voice.

Ginny, silent up to that point, gave a one word response to his boast. "Checkmate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had this part of the story written when I realized that I had given too much time for entering names into the Goblet of Fire. For the sake of my timeline, they had a week to enter rather than 24 hours.
> 
> Update timing: I am attempting to hold to a twice a week update schedule. Since the start of the self-isolation and social distancing orders, I have been working a lot more than I expected in the month of March to so I hope that I will be able to keep up with my mid week & end of week schedule.
> 
> Chapter title respectfully borrowed from The Mess I Made of a Game of Chess by Sarah Khan - https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1301008/the-mess-i-made-of-a-game-of-chess/


	5. The Hands of Time Forget to Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Daphne work together and enjoy success.

"I really appreciate you taking a look at this with me, Hermione." Daphne was leaning over the table that Dobby had gotten for her and spreading out the diagram of her spell chain. 

"I don't mind a bit Daphne. I'm looking forward to seeing how you approached our assignment." Hermione leaned over the table and tried to ignore the sweet scent emanating from Daphne's hair. With only two hours before curfew, they needed to focus. 

"I've tried to combine a rapid summoning spell here," she pointed on the parchment. "With a deceleration and levitation charm. My intent is to have the item summon quickly, but slow then float in place in front of the caster. Unfortunately, every time I try it, the item either crashes into wall, summons at a ridiculously slow pace, or strikes me before it stops." Her frustration was obvious in her voice. 

Hermione studied the combination of spells and spell codicils. "I think your use of _rapida_ with the _accio_ is fine and sensible. The issue may be the lack of reference with the _impedimenta_. Without indicating how close to the caster the object should be before slowing, the spell chain engages it too soon and, with the _maxime,_ it slows it to the extreme." 

Daphne nodded. "I think so to, but I'm not sure what to do about it. I tried adding a unit with _distancia_ but that nearly sent me to the Hospital Wing." 

"Perhaps it was too specific?" She hummed over the parchment, happy to have a challenging problem to solve and a friend that enjoyed studying with her. "The issue may also be conflicting wand motions. Draw out the chain for me. I need to see it." _Honestly,_ _Hermione! Don't be so bossy!_

Apparently unbothered, Daphne stepped back. With an elegant stance, she drew out the wand motions at half speed. Hermione frowned, sure that the solution was here. "One more time, please?" 

After the second round, she asked, "Is that alright, or do you need me to go slower?" 

"Actually, I think you're perfect." She blushed at her slip of the tongue and quickly bent over the parchment so that her hair would hide her flushed cheeks. "It's possible that an _intervallum_ might give you the right level of reference without a conflict. Do you think that adding it as a coda would be the right answer?" 

Daphne stepped close to look with her. _Focus, Hermione. Focus on the spell chain... An antecedent rapida maxime paired with the accio acts as an overpowered summoning spell._ Quietly, she began murmuring her thoughts. "The _accio_ flows into the _impedimenta_ with a quarter levorotary transition. _Intervallum_ as a coda will require its own transition. A dextrorotatory quarter transition would be ideal, but is it sufficient?" 

The other girl stepped back from the table with a quiet laugh. "Let's find out, shall we?" 

She looked at her in surprise. "I didn't realize I was thinking aloud. You're right, though. We're best to see it drawn. That's the fastest way to select the right transitional wand movements." 

She watched carefully as Daphne drew the revised movements out slowly focusing on the transitions from one spell and codicil to the next. After the first draw, she frowned back at the parchment. "I think the dextrorotatory quarter transition will work. How did it feel?" 

She eyed her wand and hand thoughtfully. "Better, more natural than the other configuration. I think I'll draw out the whole segment this way. Tell me what you think." 

Again, she watched the movements, but this time she found herself admiring the elegant style of her stance, posture and movements. _It's like her wand is a natural extension of her hand. I've noticed something similar Professor Flitwick. I wonder if it makes a difference in casting?_

"I think it's good enough to give a full try." Daphne announced when she finished. "Unless you saw something concerning?" 

"I think you are right. Best to summon something small and soft just to be safe though." She held out her Gryffindor scarf in offer. 

Daphne laughed. "Quite so! I started with a book and nearly broke Tracey's favorite mirror!" 

Both girls shared happy grins at that. _This is everything I once hoped Hogwarts would be! I've found someone to enjoy studying with!_ She was a little giddy as Daphne levitated the scarf over to the opposite side of the classroom. 

As she took a graceful casting stance, she looked to Hermione with eyes dancing in happiness. "If this goes wrong, and that scarf ties itself around my head, you will rescue me?" 

Feeling delighted and silly, she replied. "I swear, fair maiden, that I will save you from any malevolent clothing items!" 

Teasingly, she pantomimed a swoon. "Please, brave Gryffindor! Save me from that dastardly scarf err it smother me into a faint!" 

The girls dissolved into giggles at their own joke. When they finally calmed themselves enough to draw breath, they were propping each other up with arms loosely wrapped around each other's waists. Not for the first time, Hermione found herself drawn in by her friend's lovely even features. As they stood close, still catching their breath, she stared at Daphne's softly polished lips feeling entranced. 

The intoxicating spell broke when a soft hand reached up to brush the happy tears from her cheek. She blushed and stepped away. _Oh my goddess, I almost kissed her! Hermione, get a grip on yourself before you drive her away!_

She glanced down at her feet, deliberately avoiding her friend's gaze. It made her feel cowardly, but she could not stand to know how she might have offended the other girl. 

Once again, they took their stances as caster and observer. Daphne squared her shoulders but did not start right away. "Is it odd that I'm nervous? I've been working on this for over three weeks. I like the hope that this will correct the issues I've had, and I hate the idea of dashing those hopes." 

Before Hermione could respond, she drew a fortifying breath and lifted her wand. " _Rapida Maxime Accio scarf Impedimenta Intervallum a Wingardium Leviosa."_

Both girls gasped a little as the scarf flew across the room in a blur, slowed and then levitated before them. "It worked!" 

With the scarf still floating before them, Daphne spun to Hermione and pressed her lips to hers. In shock, her overactive brain whirled with frantic thoughts. _Oh my goddess! My first kiss! Does this mean she likes me too? Her lips are so soft and warm._

It was only as the other girl began to draw back that Hermione realized that she had remained frozen in shock. _No! Don't pull away!_ She wrapped her arm around Daphne and pressed a hand to the small of her back. 

Forcefully shutting down her inner monologue, Hermione focused on fully enjoying her first kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the poem First Kiss.  
> http://www.poemslovers.com/love_poems/new_love/poems/1850.html
> 
> I'm a little nervous because this puts me at the end of my pre-written work. The next chapter is one I'm struggling with, so hopefully it will be up to my standard by Wednesday's update.


	6. To Locate Authenticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblet selection from Ron's perspective.

Ron was seething from the insults he'd suffered on his way to the Great Hall. Malfoy's insults always enraged him, but to have the filthy git call him a mediocre wizard and a coward was more than he could handle. _I'm a Weasley, and I'm just as good at magic as every one of my brothers._

He knew his grades did not live up to his mother's expectations, but he just could not see the point in working so hard at it _. So long as I'm not the bottom of my class, I'll be alright. No point in trying to outdo Bill or Percy for top marks. I wouldn't make first in our class anyway with Hermione in my year_. 

He sat down towards the back of the Gryffindor table so that he would have a good view of the hall when the Goblet was brought out. Fred and George had beat him to the feast but were laughing with some of their Hufflepuff friends. One of the girls made a point to tug on Fred's braided and beaded beard. As both boys jokingly swooped their friend into a silly dance, Ron laughed happily at their antics and let his anger fade. _We Weasley's may not be fancy or rich like Malfoy, but we've got brains, humor and honor. With those qualities on our side, we'll always have friends_. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, Harry and Hermione entered the Hall followed by Neville. Ron waved them over to what he considered prime seats. "Hullo, mates!" He grinned widely as they each found a space and settled. "Where've you come from?" 

"Good evening, Ron." Hermione sounded a bit too adult as usual, but he magnanimously ignored her pretention. "Neville and I were in the nursery talking over something with Professor Sprout. We bumped into Harry on our way into the castle." 

Taking up his cue, Harry shrugged. "I'd gone to the owlery to see Hedwig." 

"Well!" He gestured expansively. "Lucky for you, I got here and saved us prime seats!" 

They laughed, as he'd intended, and settled in to enjoy the show that was the selection. He sat back for a few moments as they caught each other up on who had entered. With the mention of Marcus Flint, he had to jump in. "If the goblet picks him to represent us, I'll know for sure it's rigged!" 

"Do we really know what qualities the Goblet seeks for this?" Hermione sounded genuinely curious, and Ron was buoyed by the chance to tell her all the things that he knew about it. 

"The Goblet was crafted and spelled prior to the first tournament to choose the most skilled, honorable, and magically powerful of the people that enter for each school." Neville's answer was simple, and Ron deflated for a moment to not be the one that educated his muggle raised friends. 

"That's amazing! Do we know how it was created? I've looked for more in the library on it, but all the books have been checked out!" Hermione seemed a little put out by the fact, but Ron just grinned at her. 

"It was ancient ritual magic! The Goblet's made of alchemically created materials, and there are some runes in the base, but it was the ritual that really made it work!" At Ron's statement, she and Harry both looked at him quizzically. Before they could ask him how he knew, he volunteered, "Mum was studying to become a ritual practitioner when she got pregnant with Bill. The master she was apprenticing under died while she took off with him, so she couldn't finish. She used to tell me and Ginny all about the history of it, and she still uses little rituals to bolster some of her potions and remedies." 

Hermione smiled happily at him. "That sounds amazing! Do you think she could show us some about it when we visit next?" 

"I think she would love to!" Ginny dropped into an open seat next to Neville. "She might even show us how to purify our cauldrons and potions instruments before start of term next year. She usually just does it for us, but it would be super helpful to know how so that we can do it periodically during the school year." 

Harry took a breath to ask Ginny something, but Ron's attention was drawn to the entry to the Great Hall. _Fleur Delacour... she's so beautiful._ He squirmed a little in embarrassment at his own reaction to seeing the lovely Veela girl. _I wish I could get up the courage to go talk to her. If I were somebody, she would like me. Maybe if I could have entered, she would have noticed me._

Suddenly, Ron felt lonely even though he was surrounded by his friends. _I wish they would start the feast and ceremony so that we can get this all over with._ As though summoned by his thoughts, the expanded staff table began to fill with faculty and guests. The headmaster stood up before them, but Ron paid little attention to his words. 

It was the smell of rich and varied foods appearing on the tables that broke him from his rare introspective mood. He quickly reached for a platter of roast chicken and began to serve his meal. 

Two full plates of food later, Ron considered the possibility that he should have paced himself a bit. Fortunately, his mother always bought his school clothes a bit big so that he could grow with them through the year. Otherwise, his distended stomach would have been pressed against the waistband of his dressy trousers. 

As the Goblet of Fire was wheeled up to the front of the room, he set his fork down on his empty plate which promptly disappeared. He scanned the room and saw Victor Krum staring intently at the Goblet. _He's a brilliant seeker, surely the Goblet will pick him for Durmstrang._ Ron glanced over at Harry as his friend poured pumpkin juice in Hermione's cup. _Maybe he'll agree to do a little exhibition race with Harry! With no Quidditch this year, we'll need something fun to watch besides the tasks._

Ron continued to let his mind wander a bit as the headmaster made a short speech. Finally, it was time for the selection. The room seemed to charge with magic and anticipation. For that moment, he let himself hope that a Gryffindor would become the champion. _It's only right that the house of the brave represent us in a contest called off due to deaths. It might be the closest some of these boys get to the level of danger me, Harry and Hermione have faced. It's only fair they get the chance to prove themselves the way we have. Course, if they knew all we've gotten up to since our first year, they'd be hard pressed to beat out our courage even with the contest._

When Ron huffed a laugh under his breath, Harry gave him a curious glance. "What's funny, Ron?" 

He grinned a bit. "Just thinking they'd better not have the first task be battling a troll. No one at Hogwarts would be impressed with that for sure!" 

Hermione started laughing with him and bumped his foot under the table. "Better leave out a life size wizard's chess set or Cerberus as well, yeah?" 

His sister rolled his eyes at them, but Ron felt his cheeks stretch wide with his happy smile. They might not be doing as much together the past few weeks, but Hermione and Harry were his best friends. _It's the three of us, in it together. No one else in this school has anything like what we've got._

Just as the Goblet spat out a slip of paper, the group turned their attention back to the selection ceremony. Headmaster Dumbledore did the honors with a slow, loud call across the room. "The Champion for Beauxbaton will be... Fleur Delacour!" 

The hall full of students and guests applauded the lovely young woman as she approached and began shaking hands with the witnesses. Ron frowned in offence when a pink toad looking woman wiped her hand on her hideous pink robes after Fleur had passed. He was impressed by the haughty look the French Champion gave the woman over her shoulder before going into the antechamber as instructed. It seemed to say, _I saw that and you are a beneath me._ Ron felt himself fall a little in love with the girl at the exchange. 

As the hall quieted down, Headmaster Dumbledore stepped back toward the Goblet for the next name. When it flew out, he caught it with an impressive show of reflexes. Ever the showman, he let anticipation build as he slowly called out, "The Champion for Durmstrang will be... Victor Krum!" 

The headmaster's announcement was met with an eruption of applause across the hall. Even those that were hesitant about Durmstrang, due to their reputation, were looking forward to seeing the Quidditch star in action. The star in question walked forward and shook hands with the school and ministry representatives. As he walked into the antechamber indicated, the applause began to taper off, and the anticipation built again. 

With a smile at his assembled students, the headmaster held out his hand. With a flourish, the Goblet spat out the next name. It flipped end over end and landed squarely into the his hand. "The Champion... in the Triwizard Tournament... representing Hogwarts... will be..." The whole hall seemed to freeze with the drawn out pause. "Cedric Diggory!" 

The Hufflepuff table cheered and applauded their seeker, some reached out to grasp his hand in congratulation. While they made the most noise, the rest of the school was certainly enthused in celebrating the elevation of a well-liked member of their student body. _I'm so glad it's not some rich snotty snake or entitled Ravenclaw. Cedric's a good bloke, and he'll do us credit for sure!_

As their champion moved past the handshakes from the front and walked toward the antechamber, a few members of the student body began to look towards the Goblet, still on fire. _I wonder when it's going to go out._ Ron tried to remember what his mum had said about it, but there was never as much detail on the Goblet as the tournament. 

Ron began to realize that something was odd as the Headmaster and Mr. Bagman began to look askance at the magical artifact. Their confusion was on odd counterpoint to Crouch's blank stare. Just as the Headmaster reached for his wand, a fourth slip of paper spit from the Goblet. As there was no one waiting to catch it, it fluttered to the floor. When the headmaster summoned it and read it to himself, his gaze seemed to seek them out. Ron felt his stomach clench unpleasantly on his overgenerous meal. 

"Harry Potter" at the sound of the Headmaster's call, the whole of the hall went still. "Harry Potter, please make your way to the antechamber." 

The faculty and ministry reps began to whisper to each other, but the students all stared in shock at their table. "Harry, you need to go and see what's happening." Hermione's ever sensible voice cut across the stillness. Only someone that knew her well would notice that her knuckles were white where she clenched her scarf. 

"I didn't put my name in." Harry seemed pale, and his voice barely carried across the table to Ron's ears. "Hermione, I swear that I didn't enter this tournament." 

"Of course, Harry, but..." She was cut off by McGonagall's voice calling out. 

"Mr. Potter! Please make your way to the antechamber." She was walking towards him as though to grab him bodily, but Harry didn't make it necessary. When he made to rise, she nodded in satisfaction. "The rest of you may enjoy your dessert. Please remember to be back in your common rooms by curfew." 

Hermione watched Harry in silence while Ron wrestled with the shock of the moment. Before he could really decide what he believed, Dean leaned across several people and addressed him loudly, "Blimey Ron, that's impressive! How'd Harry manage to make there be a fourth school for the Triwizard?!" 

His stomach sank as several other boys began to crowd around him asking for answers. He could barely hear them over the buzzing in his ears, but he heard his own voice call out, "Bloody hell if I know! The blighter didn't tell me a bloody damned thing about it!" 

His heart sank as his mouth committed him to a course that he was not at all sure he wanted to take. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by The Art of Losing Yourself.  
> https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1174823/the-art-of-losing-yourself/ 
> 
> I revamped my outline this weekend and had to up the chapter count quite a bit. (A few chapters got split, and a few were added.) I hope the bonus update makes up for it.


	7. Truth's Superb Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblet selection hangover in the staff meeting

Minerva stepped into the teacher's common room to find that her fellow professors had already arrived. While Albus had called the standing meeting when he ascended to the post of headmaster, he had not attended regularly since taking on the ICW post of Supreme Mugwump 7 years ago. As she walked to her own chair, she set parchment and a Dict-a-Quill in the headmaster's seat to take his notes. 

"Good evening, Minerva." Ever the gentleman, Fillius was the first to greet her. "How was your final class of the day?" 

"Quite well, Fillius. I find that I prefer having my NEWT level students at the end of the day and week. They enjoy a challenge and prefer to do most of their problem solving together rather than with my guidance." She smiled thinking of her most skilled students. 

"Fascinating how we are different," he replied. "You've just described the very reason that I prefer to start my week with my NEWT level students." 

She smiled at him companionably for a moment before calling the meeting to order. "Good evening, to all. I hope you had a productive week despite all of the excitement. Does anyone have any positives to acknowledge?" 

She smiled when Pomona drew breath to speak. "Severus, Astoria Greengrass came up with an extraordinary method of reducing the cries of her mandrakes when repotting today. She tickled them as one would a baby. It made for a much more pleasant day in the greenhouse and is the reason that I awarded her 10 points for ingenuity." 

The sneer on the Slytherin's face lifted slightly as he nodded in acknowledgement. "I have found young Miss Greengrass to be quite inventive." 

"Well," Fillius took that moment to jump into the conversation. "I have found both Greengrass ladies to be delightful in class. Just today, Heiress Greengrass brought to me a completed spell chain that summons an object from any distance at high speed and, when it approaches the castor, it slows and levitates before them. I took the class out to the Quidditch pitch to test it and had quite a bit of fun." 

"Spell chains are an OWL level skill, are they not?" Snape's tone was rich with sly pride. He knew the answer as well as any of them. 

"Quite so, Severus." Fillius surprised her by taking his bait. "I assigned spell chains as extra coursework for my 4th years in hopes that they will be amply prepared for OWLs. So far, Heiress Greengrass and Miss Granger have been the only ones to make the attempt." 

Minerva smothered a smile at her friend's understated needling of their prickly colleague. "And what was Miss Granger's spell chain?" 

"A research spell. It was quite complex and rather effective." He smiled proudly. "She crafted it so that she could write any search terms onto a piece of parchment and receive a list of books and periodicals in the library that contained those words." 

"That does sound complex and very useful." Minerva felt her chest puff with pride at the accomplishment and made note to get the chain from her clever student for personal use. "Did you have her demonstrate that spell for your class?" 

Fillius gave her a disappointed look. "You know this clutch of 4th years, Minerva. The summoning spell is more physical and likely to spark the children's imagination." 

Severus snorted in derision. "Who cares about their imagination? You coddle them. They should learn things that will help them succeed in our world. It is no matter if they enjoy it." 

The potions master's hypocrisy in advocating for students to learn a spell chain crafted by a student he frequently demeaned was apparently lost on him. It was not lost on her, of course, but she let the moment pass so that their staff meeting could continue. "Does anyone else have any positives that they would like to share from the week?" 

Septima expressed pleasure in her 6th year NEWT student's work on predicting the structure of the 1st task. "We've been using Triwizard's Through the Ages to analyze the goal and challenges of each task. It is a delightful opportunity for them to see the outcomes of their predictions." 

"Surely the Potter brat's latest exploit will render your class's work moot." Severus's tone was cutting, and the scowl that appeared on his brow was thunderous. "Minerva, would you please enlighten us all on the punishment that little hooligan will face for this?" 

She failed to control her aggrieved sigh. "Severus, either young Mr. Potter is incompetent and lazy as you so frequently claim, or he is cunning and skilled enough to bypass Albus's age line and confound a centuries old magical artifact into accepting a 4th school without being detected by any member of this staff or the watchful student body. For the sake of my sanity, you must decide!" 

"Surely, you cannot believe the little grandstander to be innocent of this! We all saw the results of a student entering a slip that was not written by the person named." His irrational anger was causing his normally sallow complexion to flush. "He is in your house, and you must deal with this incessant rule breaking once and for all!" 

"Severus!" She snapped and her own anger swelled enough that she forgot her normal professional courtesy. "This childish behavior from you must stop! Ever since Mr. Potter joined our student body, you have been determined to punish him for his resemblance to James Potter instead of fulfilling your responsibility to teach him as you would any other student! Surely, you must see how shamed Lily would be of your petty and willful blindness towards her son!" 

"You go too far!" He surged to his feet, his face red with rage. For a moment she thought he might draw his wand, but, instead, he spun on his heels and stormed from the room. 

As the door slammed, she dropped her face into her left hand. _Now you've done it, Minnie. The petty man-child will punish all your lions in proxy. That will be weeks of undeserved detentions and lost points..._ She glared at the chair beside her, occupied only by a twitching quill and a half-filled parchment. 

"Curious though, don't you think Minerva?" Alastor's comment brought her back from her self-recriminations. 

"What's curious?" She asked him. 

"The name of the 4th school was Sawtooth. Wasn't that the name of a Goblin General from the 4th rebellion?" He phrased it as a question, but he obviously knew the answer. "It seems an odd name for the boy to choose. Did anyone see the entry slip?" 

"No, Albus pocketed it quickly." She replied, wondering where he was going with this. 

"I would be interested to see if it had torn edges. I've noticed that most Muggle raised students write their name on the top left corner of their parchments rather than the upper middle like most pureblood students." 

She tried to remember the shape of the paper but could not bring it to mind. "Alastor, are you suggesting that Mr. Potter was entered using something torn from his schoolwork?" The idea, and the conspiracy it implied, was horrifying. 

"It's just a thought. Professor Binns has never been cautious about locking his office, even when I was enrolled here." He leaned back and let his words echo through her mind. 

_It could be anyone that entered him and for any purpose!_ She knew that several of the younger students had been unhappy that their resident hero would be unable to participate. If any older students had the same opinion, they might have kept it to themselves. _Add to that option, all of the visitors to our school with the competition... It's no wonder that Albus didn't demand that Crouch null the selection. At least this way, all eyes will be on Mr. Potter. I just hope the attention will be enough of a protection from this conspiracy._

Seeming to read her thoughts, Pomona interjected, "Perhaps we should keep these suspicions quiet. Should the person that entered young Mr. Potter find this plot foiled, they may try something less public... Something we wouldn't expect or be able to protect him against." 

"You are right, Pomona." With a swish of her wand, the Dict-a-Quill sprang into her hand and the parchment went up in flames. "I believe I shall provide Albus my report from this meeting in person." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title respectfully borrowed from Emily Dickenson's Tell the Truth.  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56824/tell-all-the-truth-but-tell-it-slant-1263


	8. Shy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione considers the challenges of first love and how to reach out.

Hermione was curled up behind the curtains of her bed in the dorm. The whispers and giggles of her roommates had slowly faded away into soft snores. _I should be sleeping too, but I can't seem to settle my mind._ She stared down at the parchment before her, blank and intimidating, and tried to think of any way to start her note to Daphne. 

It had been two days since they had seen each other outside of class, and even longer ago since they had kissed. _Does she still like me? Does she regret kissing me? Does she think of me like I'm thinking of her right now?_

She swore quietly as she came back to the present and saw the inkblot she had left on the parchment. With a mumbled incantation, she vanished the stain and set the parchment and quill aside. 

From under her pillow, she pulled a biro and notebook. She flipped to the first blank page and began to write:

Her lips are soft and warm

Her hands are capable and precise

Her eyes are bright and see so much

I've never been in love before

But I've known what it is to be made breathless

I've felt my heart stutter with emotion

Do you lose time when you look into my eyes?

Do you feel your words catch in your throat?

Do you feel warm when you think of me

Like when I think of you?

She set her pen down for a moment and listened to the quiet around her. Then she began writing again, below her little poem:

_I don't know what it feels like to be in love. Maybe that's why Mum always said first love was hard. If I don't know what it feels like, how can I know if I am?_

_What should I say to her, especially now when things are starting to get so chaotic again?_

_I remember my dad saying that sometimes you have to do something, even if it's wrong... Is that the point I'm at?_

_Do something;_

_do anything;_

_to keep from doing nothing?_

She set aside her journal and, as quietly as possible, slipped out of her bed. She held her breath when her trunk latch clicked, but her dorm-mates did not stir. The book she was searching for was toward the middle of her collection. It was a well-loved volume that her mother had given her for Valentine's Day several years ago. The bookmark was a card she had given to her crush that same day. He had forgotten it on his desk when school had ended.

She no longer felt the sadness that memory used to bring. Within months of that incident, the boy had moved away, and she had gotten her Hogwarts letter. Instead, the little heart shaped card was just another scrap of paper that she used to mark her place. Anything was fair game for such a purpose, even the unsalvageable drafts of Ron's essays that he asked her to proof.

Slipping back into the privacy of her curtained bed, Hermione cast a _lumos_. It took her only a moment to find the section with the old anonymous verses. With a quiet sigh, she began to transcribe a lovely short poem for Daphne. 

Love not me for comely grace,   
For my pleasing eye or face,   
Nor for any outward part,   
No, nor for a constant heart.   
For these may fail or turn to ill,   
So thou and I shall sever.   
Keep therefore a true woman's eye   
And love me still but know not why,   
So hast thou the same reason still   
To dote upon me ever.

She read it back over when she was done and nodded in satisfaction. She was finally growing sleepy but still took the time to fold the parchment into a complex origami configuration she remembered from her first year in school. She tucked the parchment, books and wand under her pillow. As she lay back to go to sleep, a final thought entered her mind. _Just let me have the courage to give this to her tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry that inspired the chapter title and Hermione's quoted poem were found through the following web post.  
> http://shakespeares-sonnets.com/Valentine.php 
> 
> The poem attributed to Hermione in her journal was an original that I wrote for this story.


	9. Chivalry Doesn't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets the Durmstrang Champion in the library and gets a lead on Harry's first task.

Hermione fidgeted restlessly with her bag strap as she walked into library. Her folded note to Daphne had already been slipped into the other girl's possessions that morning as they passed in the hall. It had taken a little of the sleight of hand that Hermione had learned from the magician her parents had hired for her 7th birthday. The kind man had taught her a number of tricks as though to make up for her lack of celebrants.

_It might be a while before Daphne finds my note and reads it. I know she was on her way to transfiguration when I saw her. I thought she might have come here when she finished, but I don't see her._ She caught herself gnawing on her bottom lip and forced herself to stop. _You'll make it bleed if you aren't careful. What kind of friend are you to worry about your crush when someone clearly has drawn Harry into a plot? Focus, Hermione._

As she finished that critical pep talk, she moved to a table near the catalogue and looked around for Madam Pince. Instead of the stern librarian at her desk, she saw the Durmstrang Champion Victor Krum standing opposite an empty chair. When she noticed that he looked a bit lost, she decided that courtesy dictated she try to help.

"Good day, Mr. Krum." She approached him as she spoke. "Is there something I can help you find?"

"Good day to you, as well." His words seemed stilted and uncomfortable, but she found his accent and voice pleasant. "I was not expecting such difference in the way books are inventoried. Perhaps, you could help me understand system?"

She smiled, happy to have a problem she could really help solve. "I've found Madam Pince's personal cataloguing system to be quite cumbersome. If you will tell me what you would like to find, I have a little spell chain that will give you a list of all the books that contain that topic."

"Zat sounds very useful... Sorry, but I do not know your name." He seemed to sincerely regret having to ask for introduction. Endearingly, it reminded her of Harry and his approach to celebrity.

"My name is Hermione Granger." Out of long habit, she pulled parchment and a biro from her bag to write her name out for him. 

He smiled at her as he watched over her shoulder. "Her-my-oh-nee," he sounded out her name. "I am very pleased to meet you." 

She turned to face him and blushed when she realized how close he was standing. _He's rather handsome..._

He seemed oblivious to her thoughts when, with a nod to her pen, he asked, "You are first generation witch?"

Her spine stiffened reflexively. "Yes." Her answer was short, but she could not help it as she braced for some unpleasantness. 

"My cousin has married first generation wizard from Germany." He pulled a fountain pen from a side pocket in his own bag with a smile. "He give me this for Yule."

She grinned with relief. _Perhaps not every rumor I've heard of Durmstrang is true._ "It's a lovely pen. I've not tried swapping out my quill, but it is very tempting. Do you find that it works effectively with runic structures?"

"Dah," he nodded. "It work well. Though I recommend specific pen. My cousin says that they used several before choosing this one."

He leaned past her and wrote the name of a stationary shop and maker that was new to her. As he lifted the pen tip from the parchment, she stopped him with a gesture. "Please go ahead and write the topic that you wish to search. I'll run the spell chain for you."

"You are very kind." He gave her a charming smile. "I am most pleased to have met you."

She tilted her head so that her hair could hide her flushed cheeks but could not help the pleased smile that crossed her lips. "I am happy to help. It is only good hospitality, in my view."

"I like your view." When he heard his own words, he seemed a little embarrassed. Hermione supposed that it hadn't translated as he had intended. He focused on the parchment that she had provided and, to her surprise, wrote *Dragon Handling* then *Manticore Taming*.

"Dragons and Manticores? That's quite a difference in interests." Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears. All thoughts of beautiful witches and handsome wizards left her head as she realized that this was likely research for a task that her best friend was entered into.

He gave her a long and assessing glance. "You wear same colors as boy that is fourth champion."

She straightened her shoulders in pride. "He's my friend. His name is Harry."

"Is he so brave that he thinks to take on such tasks despite the rules?" His tone suggested that 'brave' was not the word he really intended.

"Harry didn't enter himself." She said it firmly and thought for a moment before explaining further. "There are those in our country that idolize him for something that happened when he was very young... and there are those that want him dead for that same thing." 

He nodded as though this did not surprise him. "You speak of the fall of your dark one."

"Yes." She gave him nothing else and left the silence for him to fill.

"I was surprised that the contest judges did not demand a new selection or his guardians not void contract. Perhaps ones that lead this tournament agree with whomever entered him." He seemed to accept her assertions on Harry's innocence as though it answered a question that had been nagging him. After a moment's further thought, he continued with a decisive tone to his voice. "I seek texts on dragons and manticores because my mother's arithmantic calculations show them as the most likely enemies in first task."

"Krum..." She felt her own eyes widen in surprise. "Your mother is Miroslava Krum, the arithmancy master!" She grinned with delight at the realization. "Professor Vector subscribes to the Arithmetic Professionals, and several of her papers have been translated for the journal."

He grinned at her. "I am pleased to hear that she is known even here. Her books have not yet been published in English so you surprise me."

"Your mother's research is foundational for modern arithmancy. I only wish I could see more of her thoughts than just the occasional paper." Hermione could not contain her excitement at the idea of learning more about her favorite subject.    
"You vill have your wish soon. Her first major book has been translated into English and will be printed within next few months." He sounded pleased at his announcement.

"That's wonderful! You must be so proud to have such an amazing academic in your life," She said.

"Dah," He nodded. "I am very proud of my mother."

They both paused and looked down at the parchment on the table. "Oh!" Hermione could not quite contain her embarrassment. "Here you were looking for something and I take your time to gush about your Mum. You must think I'm terribly silly."

Before he could reply, she tapped his first search term and began casting. Her biro quickly started scratching out titles for Dragon Handling as she began the casting for the second set of terms. The books for Manticores was shorter and included a text with the intimidating title of Famous Deaths by Manticore.

While they had been talking, Madam Pince had returned to her desk. With a nod to her, Victor cast a quick spell to duplicate the parchment. "I am most pleased to know you Hermione. Please give my best to your friend."

She rolled up the copy he left her. "I will. I've been pleased to meet you as well Victor."

With a quiet, "I hope to see you again," he walked away, leaving Hermione to her many chaotic thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Chivalry by Jordan Rowan.  
> https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1515538/chivalry/ 
> 
> I'm trying an altered update schedule. I'm going from 2X to 3X a week. I've got a much bigger gap between where I am in writing the story and posting the story than I prefer.


	10. Long Have I Long'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne considers Hermione's poem, then Tracey gives her something else to consider as well.

The folded parchment hid in the warded bottom of Daphne's trunk, but it was ever present in her thoughts. Hermione's borrowed words were lovely and moving. Even thinking of the poem and their sweet kisses made her feel flushed and warm. 

She flipped a page in her disguised book and continued to let her mind wander. _It may not have been my first kiss, but it was the first kiss I ever had make me feel like that._ She drifted in her remembrances, once again feeling the press of Hermione's curves against hers. She even thought for a moment that the spicy scent of cinnamon and vanilla drifted into her nose. 

"Thank you so much for loaning me your copy, it helped quite a bit." The sound of Tracey's voice entering the common room snapped her out of her arousing reflections. She looked up as her friend handed a slim herbology volume to Blaise. 

"Delighted to help," he replied as he gave her his trademark charming smile. 

While focused attention from the charismatic boy would normally have pleased Tracey, this time she flicked a glance to Bulstrode in concern. Following her gaze, Daphnesaw the pureblood girl glaring hotly. Her half-blood friend was generally well liked, but it seemed that Millicent had decided she was a threat to her own interests. 

"Tracey, there you are. I was hoping to get your perspective on something if you have the time?" Daphne kept her voice cool as she rose and caught her friend's attention. 

Once their eyes met, she did not bother waiting for a verbal acknowledgement. Instead, she turned to gather her things and walked toward their dorm room. She knew that Tracey would follow. 

After the two girls were in the room, Daphne closed the doors and began casting privacy charms. Their roommates would not complain about the inconvenience. Every Slytherin knew their place in the pecking order. 

Her friend sat down on the flat lid of her trunk and let her shoulders slump. _This is worse than I thought. What could possibly being going on?_ She pulled a chair over from her vanity and settled herself in front of her friend. It took several long moments of patient stillness and silence before Tracey looked up. 

Her eyes were dry with no evidence of tears, but the creases on her brow showed how upset she truly was. "My cousin is in the hospital wing." 

Daphne gasped a little in shock. "Your cousin, Ellen? What happened?" 

"A few of the Slytherin boys that remembered her from before she transferred... apparently they waited until she was away from the rest of the Beauxbaton delegation and cursed her." Tracey's voice was steady but hoarse with anger. "She heard one of them call her a mudblood whore. Another shouted that they would remind her of her place." 

Daphne reached for her friend and covered her tightly clasped hands as the girl continued. "Who knows what they would have done to her if the Delacour girl hadn't come up and frightened them off?" 

"How bad are her injuries?" She kept her voice soft when she asked. 

"She'll recover." Tracey stared down at their joined hands. "Madame Maxine is furious, of course. She is demanding that the DMLE get involved, but it isn't so simple as Ellen is technically a British witch and Hogwarts is nominally independent from the ministry." 

Her friend fell silent. When she looked up again, her whole countenance burned with anger. "What more do these bastards want, Daph? They drove her out of Hogwarts years ago! Do they expect that she never return to England? All because she was seduced by some slimy worm that wanted out of his betrothal contract!" 

"I suppose that the ringleader of all this was Pucey?" She asked, referring to the older boy whose sister had been jilted in the scandal. 

"Of course!" She lurched to her feet and began to pace. "He and Warrington have always insisted that it was her corrupting influence that led to Nott breaching the contract. Because, of course, she used her muggle wiles to ensnare some boy three years older!" 

Daphne murmured soothingly to her friend and let her vent out her steam. _She'll have to get this out of her system now. The other girls will be suspicious with this reminder of her cousin's scandal. Any seeming sympathy and they will be merciless in their defense of what they see as their right to the pureblood boys._

It was only later in the evening, as Daphne sat at her little table searching for a way to respond to Hermione, that she began to question her own actions. _How can I justify drawing her close when I know how cruel some of these people can be? But can I bear to let her go when no one else has ever made me feel this way?_

She scrubbed a hand down her face, and began flipping through the poetry anthology her aunt had given her over the summer. When she came upon a sonnet by Barnfield, the words of longing spoke to her deeply. Deciding that the decision to continue or stop their budding relationship was one they should make together, Daphne began writing out her feelings with someone else's words. _We'll find a time to talk, and, until then, she'll know that I think of her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is borrowed from Richard Barnfield's Sonnet 16.  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52288/sonnet-16  
> This is also the poem that Daphne sends to Hermione at the end of the chapter.


	11. Finding a Good Friend is Like Finding a Four Leaf Clover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's isolation deepens.

Harry walked away from the wand weighing ceremony. After turning a corner, the only sounds he could hear were his own steps echoing on the stones of the hall. The whole experience still had his head swimming, and he wished he could ask Ron about that Skeeter woman. Her interest in him made him uncomfortable, but there seemed like there was nothing he could do about it. 

He shuddered a little at the memory of being dragged into a cupboard and interrogated. _I'll have to find a way to keep away from her in the future._ He huffed out a frustrated breath. _Seems like there's loads of people I'm trying to keep away from right now._

As he approached an intersection of the hallways, he heard voices and footsteps. Remembering the stinging hex he had caught in the backside as he left the Great Hall at lunch, he ducked into an alcove in case the group coming along included anyone that might attack him. 

"Cedric's just being noble." He recognized Lisa Turpins's voice and felt his stomach clench. "Potter's entry into the contest is horribly unfair, and everyone knows it!" 

He tried to squeeze himself even further into his hiding spot as whoever she was speaking to replied. "You're right, Lisa. It's really not fair. What is he supposed to say, that the Boy-Who-Lived should sit back and not participate? There's nothing else for him to do!" 

Harry's stomach clenched and turned as their voices echoed and faded away. _Is there no one that really believes me? They all think I'm some attention seeking glory-hound, but I'm terrified by what I might face in this tournament. All I really wanted was to sit back and, for once, enjoy the show. Instead, I am the show. No, It's worse than that! For most of these people, I'm the villain of this stupid drama! I hate this!_

Harry waited for a long moment in hopes that the girls would be long gone before he entered the main hall. He tried not to assume that any other encounters would lead to the same uncomfortable revelations, but he seemed to be all anyone talked about these days. Hogwarts devoured gossip, and anything to do with him seemed to be the juiciest cut of meat. 

_If only I could find a way to get out of this!_ Even as the thought entered his mind, he gave up on it. _No one has ever defended me before, why would they do it now that they think I’m a liar. Even the ministry people insist that I'm in some magical contract even though I'm only 14!_

Still wallowing in his thoughts, he stepped from the alcove and into the deserted main hall. He started heading towards the Arithmancy classroom in hopes that he could meet Hermione. _Maybe she'll be willing to sneak off with me for a picnic so I don't have to go into the Great Hall for lunch._

He was only a few steps past the intersection when he felt a cold slimy sensation slide down the neck of his robes. He did not bother to look back at the mean laughter coming from the group of boys behind him. He recognized their voices and knew them all to be Gryffindors. 

Coming from the other alcove, he saw a flash of red hair. Ron was walking towards them. Hope flared for a moment in Harry's heart, but it was dashed almost immediately after. _Ron didn't even meet my eyes. He just turned his back and started walking away from me._

His breath froze in his chest at the knowledge that his first friend had truly abandoned him. He extended his stride and walked purposefully towards the next side corridor. He turned and quickly ducked around the corner, pulling out his father's cloak. By the time the group of bullies had come around after him, he was invisible. 

From the safety of his anonymity, he considered retaliating against the bell ends that had hexed him from behind. He held his wand at the ready and revised the long list of hexes he'd learned from the twins as the other boys bickered ahead of him. _It would be so easy..._ His anger was suddenly washed away in a wave of hopeless apathy. _But it_ _won't fix anything..._ Instead of casting at them, he turned away and trudged toward the nearest exit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Deceit & Deception & Trust by Angeline Richards  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/deceit--deception--trust


	12. Dust of Loving Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne and Hermione have a private lunch together.

As their arithmancy lesson wound to a close, Daphne caught Hermione's eye. She quickly cut her eyes toward the door and felt hopeful that her message was received when the other girl gave a quick nod before returning her attention to the board. Daphne took a moment to compare her notes to the assignment on the board and made a correction to the essay length. 

It took her very little time to finish packing her things, and she was out the door before most of her classmates. Turning away from the route to the Great Hall, she stepped around the corner and waited for the rest of the class to file out for lunch. When she stepped back into the corridor, she saw her pretty friend standing a bit past the door and looking around in confusion. 

She walked towards Hermione, taking care to make a bit of noise as she did so. Even with her caution, Hermione startled a bit causing her curls to bounce in response. 

"Daphne?" She gasped a little as she spoke. "What is going on?" 

"Do you think, if we went to your room, your house elf friend might bring us some lunch? I promise to explain." Daphne kept her voice low even though they were alone in the hall. 

Her friend nodded, and the girls began to walk toward a side flight of stairs that would take them to the correct floor. _I hope I'm doing the right thing._ She glanced over and admired the other girl's delicate profile half hidden by her hair. _I wish I could talk to my mum about this, but I think she would ask me to put myself in her steps. When I do that, I know that I would prefer to be consulted rather than just protected._

Their quiet walk ended at the closed door to the room she had come to think of as Hermione's. When her friend unlocked the door with the archaic combination spell they had found in a mis-shelved book in the library one rainy day, she smiled warmly at her. Something about that expression seemed to calm the tension between them, and they stepped into the clean and comfortable room together. 

Daphne hung up her book bag on a hook by the door and admired some of the little touches that had been added to the room since she last saw it. The sitting area now boasted a repaired tapestry on one wall, and the chairs sat upon a faded blue rug. 

She turned to cast a few privacy charms as her friend placed her book bag and school robe on the hooks next to the one she had claimed. Once both girls had settled their possessions, they turned back to one another. 

"Did you want me to call Dobby and ask for lunch? Or did you want to talk first?" Hermione sounded uncertain but seemed determined to pretend everything was normal. 

"I think a light lunch would be lovely." She strove for a reassuring tone but heard her own nerves come through. "Could we, perhaps, sit down together?" 

"Sure." Her reply was punctuated by a nod, and they both moved towards the squishy chairs. 

Once the enthusiastic little elf had popped away to get them something to eat, Hermione took the initiative. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" 

_Just like a Gryffindor,_ she thought with a smile. "Ready? Not really... I have practiced this conversation in my mind for a few days now, but I still am not sure how to start." When Hermione stayed silent, she pressed on. "I like you very much... I think you're lovely and clever, and I enjoy every moment we spend together." 

The other girl's shoulders began to curl inward, and Daphne rushed out the rest of her words in a panic. "But I think it's only fair that you know the risks of being with me before we get any more involved." 

Wide brown eyes dashed upward to meet her blue ones. "You?" She cleared her throat. "You aren't actually trying to be rid of me?" 

Daphne's heart squeezed in her chest, and she felt a bit breathless at the thought. "I can't imagine ever wanting to be rid of you!" 

Dobby popped back into the room with a tray of fruits, cheeses and cold meats. He looked at Daphne with suspicion and drew himself straight. "Alls is alright, missy Hermione?" 

"Everything is quite alright, Dobby." She gave him a bright and happy smile that seemed to reassure him. "This food looks amazing! Thank you ever so much!" 

He bounced as he set the food down on the little table between them. "Wells, shoulds you be needing anythings, you just call for Dobby." With a nod, he popped away again. 

"Hermione," she waited until the other girl had met her gaze. "I think I've started this conversation all wrong. Why don't I tell you a story while we eat, alright?" 

"Alright." She looked a little more confident and began serving herself some fruit and cheese. 

"When my grandfather, Damian Greengrass, was born, he wasn’t expected to take on the role of Head of House. He had an older sister, you see, and our family follows strict primogeniture." She paused to take a bite of melon. "Traditionally, the Heir or Heiress of our family would become betrothed at some point after the age of 16, and my aunt was no different. Unfortunately, the Carrows fell into service within Grindelwald's ranks. When the two older Carrows were killed, Aunt Anthea was already pregnant. Under the terms of the consort contract, her children would be Greengrasses, but she insisted that she be allowed to continue her husband's family name. My great-grandfather agreed but with the expectation that she disavow all inheritances in perpetuity in favor of my father." 

Hermione was frowning in confusion. "This is not the sort of story I was expecting." 

She nodded. "It wasn't exactly where I was planning to start either, but context is important. And there are some things that you need to know for context." 

"Of course, please continue." 

"My great-grandfather insisted that she completely step aside because the Greengrass interests all rely on a certain vision of neutrality in wizarding politics. With a Carrow as a nominal heir to the house, the factions that opposed Grindelwald would not negotiate with us to pass legislation or support our candidates for offices. Even where our interests coincided, the optics of an alliance would be too damaging to a family like Longbottom or Bones." She saw a question forming in her friend's clever mind and paused for it. 

"Isn't the Greengrass family more wealthy and influential? Why insist on her child being a Carrow?" She asked. 

"The Carrows aren't as wealthy as other pureblood families but to allow them to die out when our own name was not in jeopardy would have been seen as shameful to families like Black and Malfoy." She laughed under her breath. "Our unofficial family motto is 'ambulans de saepe accipit in statera.' My aunt, Violet, even designed a family crest with a man balancing atop a narrow wall." 

Hermione smiled as she translated the latin, "Walking the fence takes balance? It sounds like a difficult path to take." 

"It can be, and at some points it has been, but in that case the choice was obvious. There were three Greengrass children in that generation. It was decided that my grandfather would carry the name, and his sisters would take their husband's names. The idea of insisting on any minor line when so many families were down to a single heir would have been seen as greedy." She waited for her friend to voice the question she could see brewing. 

"Was it just the war that had so many families at risk of dying out?" Hermione asked slowly. 

"I adore your mind, do you know that?" She grinned in delight at the blush that comment brought to Hermione's cheeks. "The war certainly played a part, but the pureblood birth rate had been dropping for generations. There are exceptions, of course, the Prewetts and Weasley are notoriously prolific. We've all seen the results of a match between the two." 

Both girls laughed a moment, before she continued on a more solemn note. "But even the Prewetts are at risk of dying out due to the death of Molly Weasley's brothers in the last wizarding war. One of the Weasley boys will have to formally take the name if the family is to survive." 

By this point, both girls were finished eating, and Hermione moved the little table aside and sat forward. "While I'm certainly interested, why are you telling me this? 

Daphne sighed. _Time to come to the point, I suppose._ "I need you to know why, if we pursue this relationship, there will be resistance. Austoria and I are part of the smallest pureblood generation in recent history. As the heiress of our house, my relationships are already scrutinized. For me to be involved with someone that could not give me an heir of my own would be condemned even by the muggle friendly factions of our world." 

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms across her chest before replying. "Daphne... We're fifteen years old. What mad person would assume that you being in a relationship with me at this point in our lives would mean you would never have a child?" 

"I understand that the muggle world is different, but most witches and wizards with extensive family holdings marry early to ensure an heir. My father fully intends to spend this upcoming summer starting negotiations on a suitable consort betrothal contract so that our business associates will see stability in our future. Without some sort of contract, Greengrass holdings could be split or caught up in an inheritance battle that would unsettle the balance in the Wizengamot. Our relationship might cause people to assume that I would be an unwilling bride." She noticed that she was already speaking as though they were together. _It's what I want... more than I could have imagined._ "I fear that, for many of those people, you will be seen as a corrupting influence. Especially among the darkest of the pureblood families... I don't want you to get hurt." 

Silence fell between them, and Hermione stared at her hands for a long moment. Just when Daphne could stand it no longer, she spoke. "Why does anyone need to know?" 

Her breath caught for a moment, before she let herself hope. "You think we could keep it a secret?" 

"I think that what we decide to do together is no one's business but our own." Hermione nodded resolutely. "There may come a time that we decide to make our relationship public, but there is no reason to work up everyone else when we're just now figuring out what we mean to each other." 

"Hermione..." Her name came out as a whisper. "Do you really think it could work?" 

"We study together enough that most people won't be surprised to see us in the library or halls occasionally. And we've already found a way to communicate." She grinned eagerly. "Who would ever think that we were sending each other poems? We even have a private place that we can meet." She waved a hand around indicating the room. "We can do this, Daphne, if you want to." 

Excitement fluttered through her. "I want to, I very much want to." Suddenly optimistic, she stood and transfigured her chair into a small love seat. When she reached out a hand to Hermione in invitation, the other girl sprang across the open space to join her. 

As they settled on the little couch together, she lifted her hand to brush wiry brown hair away from her silky cheek. "You are lovely. Do you know that?" 

Instead of replying with words, Hermione pressed her backwards with the enthusiasm of her kiss. When the time came for them to head to their next classes, both girls had to spend several minutes adjusting their clothes and hair from the passion of their embrace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Colours of Romance by Randy Batiquin.  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/colours-of-romance


	13. Life's Most Precious Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione work together to prepare for whatever may come.

The hall was empty as the two friends walked along. Most people were still at dinner, but Harry had gotten frustrated at Ron's sullen silence so they had eaten quickly. Because of their solitude, they were less careful about being overheard than they usually would be. 

"Of course I'm worried about the possibility of dragons, Harry, but at least we have some experience with them." Hermione's tone was strident as they walked toward her study room. "A Manticore is a creature we've no experience with, and they are notoriously dangerous." 

"Dangerous? They're supposed to be bloody unbeatable!" He replied back. 

Reflexively, she corrected him. "Language Harry." 

"Right," his sarcasm was practically palpable. "I'll need to speak properly when I'm dying for the entertainment of the masses." 

Her heart felt like it could stop. Even though they were nearly to the room, she stopped in the hall and faced him. "You are not going to die, Harry Potter! I will not allow you to even think of it. Do you understand me?" 

He looked down at the index finger she had thumped against his chest in emphasis. "Yeah, Hermione. I understand." He heaved out a sigh. "I'm sorry to be so down. I really do appreciate how much you're helping me." 

She forced a smile. "And I'm sorry to have gotten so upset." 

They continued the rest of the way to the made over abandoned classroom. "What do you say we work for a little while on research and then you could help me work on shield charms?" She asked him with a hopeful tone in her voice. _Maybe helping me with something will distract him. And we both need our shields to be as strong as we can manage which takes practice._

He gave her a conciliatory smile and nodded. "Sounds good." 

When they moved into the room, Hermione reflexively began casting privacy spells. Harry looked at her with his brows high, and she gave what she hoped was a casual shrug. "I don't think we want anyone stumbling in by accident, do we?" 

He nodded but his expression turned pensive. "Or on purpose..." 

She felt a flicker of doubt and confusion. _He can't possibly know about me and Daphne? No, that look means he's thinking of Ron._ "I'm sure Ron's forgotten all about this room, Harry. We had spent the whole day exploring when we found it." She tried to be reassuring, but it seemed futile. 

"Seems Ron's forgotten about a lot of things lately..." He despondently walked over to her worktable where there were several books by notable magizoologists. Even as he flipped one open, she could see that his heart was not in it. 

For the second time in as many minutes, she rethought her strategy for today. "Harry, how about we start with the shield charms? Maybe expending a little energy first will help us focus on the research." 

He seemed to perk up at the promise of practical work. They each walked over to the open side of the room and faced off in dueling stances. By some non-verbal agreement, they settled on Harry going first. 

He cast a leg locker that she successfully shielded against. When she dispelled her shield, he cast _expelliarmus_ with surprising speed. Her wand was out of her hand before she could react. It brought a fierce frown to her face as he handed her wand back. 

"All right, Hermione?" He seemed concerned even after she nodded. 

"Quite all right. You're very quick. It's a useful thing for me to practice against." She smiled encouragingly at him so that he would know she wasn't angry and took her position again. 

A nod of his head was her only warning before he cast again. She was able to dodge the tickling charm he sent her way but did not even begin to cast before her robes were changed to purple with his follow up. 

"Ugh, why purple? You know I don't like it." She crinkled her nose as she complained teasingly. 

"If you'd used a shield to block the first spell, you'd have been protected from the second." He settled back into his stance. "Ready?" 

She nodded cautiously, determined to give him more a challenge. His leg locker went past her, and, even as she dodged, she cast her shield charm so that his over powered aguamenti sprayed back on him. "See, dodging has a place in duels, I think. Perhaps if you'd done so, you wouldn't have been hit with a rebound of your own spell." 

He laughed in acknowledgement and made no effort to dry himself as they reset. "Harry, do you want a moment to dry up?" 

"No, I think the wet is a good reminder for me." He grinned and nodded to her. 

When he cast again, she was ready. The leg locker, again, was dodged and her shield charm deflected the tickling charm. Unfortunately, none of that helped her when the next spell he cast bounced off the wall behind her and soaked her through. His aguamenti was still overpowered, and the water that missed her splashed back off the inside of her umbrella shaped shield. She was still spitting and used her hand to clear excess water from her face. Once she'd blinked her lashes clear, she realized that he looked very worried. 

"Hermione?" He spoke hesitantly. "We can stop if you like. I didn't mean to get… overzealous…" 

She gave him a grin that was deliberately predatory. "How about we call it my turn test your shields?" 

He seemed relieved rather than nervous as he responded, "Sounds brilliant!" He took his stance. "Whenever you're ready!" 

By the time they decided to take a break nearly a half hour later, they were both out of breath. They were unconcerned with their multicolored robes but did take a moment to cast drying charms on their wet socks and shoes. More importantly, they were both still laughing despite having cast a finite on the tickling hexes they had hit each other with at the last round. 

Harry cast a quick duplication charm at his favorite chair before he sat down. When Hermione looked at him quizzically, he replied. "I promise we'll research next, but I'm hoping Dobby has time to come and join us for tea." 

"Tea sounds lovely." She replied as she tiredly dropped into her favorite chair. She was too winded to worry about her hair dripping water from his aguamenti. _Maybe we should do that more often. It seems that I need more practical study._ She glanced down at her hands in disgust. Beneath her nails was the remnants of some sticky goo that Harry had conjured and threw at her. 

When Dobby popped into the room a moment later, he seemed very amused by their disheveled and colorful appearances. "Missy Hermione and Master Harry Potter sir! You seems to be all splotched with inks! What has yous been doing?" 

"We were practicing shield charms, Dobby." Hermione was the one that answered him. 

He gave them both a long and skeptical look. "Dobby thinks you both needs more practice." 

Harry was the first to gasp out a laugh, but Hermione soon followed him. Before long, her whole body clenched with her guffaws, and she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to draw a breath and speak, but all that came out was a gasp and the word, "practice!" 

It took several moments for them to calm. By that time, Dobby was sitting in the chair that Harry had duplicated for him, and there was a tea tray sitting on the little table before them. 

They still had silly smiles on their faces, and Hermione felt relaxed in a way she had not since the Goblet had spat out a fourth name. "Dobby, you're absolutely brilliant." She looked down to find her robes and other clothing all restored to their original colors. "Absolutely and completely brilliant." 

His ears twitched with pleasure at her words. She knew that she must be leaking what he called 'happy magic.' As she leaned forward to pick up her perfect tea, she glanced across at Harry who was also relaxed in a way that relieved her. 

They sipped their tea in companionable silence for several minutes before Harry asked Dobby about his work in the kitchens. She let their words sweep over her for a little while and enjoyed the uncomplicated time with friends. 

Several minutes passed with Harry and Dobby catching up before Hermione remembered a question she had been meaning to ask. "Dobby," They both looked at her. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've been wanting to ask about something that confuses me. As a house elf, do you only draw energy from happy magic or can you sustain on other things?" 

He nodded at her approvingly. "House elves cans be fed on lesser magics, but theys not proper filling. Its can make our magic unpredictable." 

Harry looked at him in surprise. "Is that why so many of your attempts to save me went awry?" 

Dobby's ears drooped in shame. "In parts, Master Harry Potter sir... I hads been getting poor magics from bad master's home and family. Also, I hads hard times to find ways to helps… especially cause of the need to protect bad master's secrets." 

"That sounds like a difficult way to live." Harry sounded sympathetic. "Do you still have to keep Malfoy's secrets?" 

"No sir." He replied quietly. "I don'ts need to keep secrets anymores... I told all secrets to headmaster when I came to Hogwarts." 

"Dobby," Hermione had thought of another question. "Can a house elf be forced to tell the secrets of a former master or mistress?" 

"Oh, nos." He shook his head solemnly. "Once an elf bonds with a new master, theys forgets all the old secrets." He glanced down at his little hands. "I is afraid of new bond. I is afraid that bad master considered mistress Medusa a secret. I don't wants to forgets her." 

Hermione looked at him sadly and opened her arms. He quickly popped into them and accepted her hug. _How could anyone be so cruel to such a sweet and loving creature._ She let him hug her as tightly and as long as he needed, grateful for a way to comfort him. 

After he moved back into his own conjured chair, he looked back and forth between them with a long and considering expression. "Coulds missy Hermione and Master Harry Potter sir help Dobby with a problem?" 

Perhaps because of his hesitance to ask, Hermione immediately agreed. "Of course, Dobby! You help us so much! We'd be delighted to try and help you." 

He nodded decisively and popped away. Before they could even share a glance in curiosity, he was back with another house elf in tow. "This be Winky. She be very sad to be here." 

To her surprise, she recognized the little house elf that Crouch had freed. The poor creature looked sallow and listless. She was wearing a little dress that had stains and burn marks on it. Everything about her seemed to indicate misery. 

Harry crouched down in from the of the chair that Dobby had popped her into. "Hello Winky, do you remember me?" 

Her only answer was a tearful wail. Harry cast a pleading glance in her direction, but she only looked helplessly back. _How can we possibly help someone so very heart broken?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Sonnet - Laughter by Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,  
> https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-laughter/
> 
> Thanks to Athena for her well timed constructive criticism. While this chapter is probably still shorter than you meant to recommend, I did go back and add detail to the dueling scene that I feel added some energy and fun to the scene.


	14. Thinking Through the Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year's first Hogsmeade weekend from Daphne's perspective.

Halfway through their first Hogsmeade visit of the term, Daphne's breath caught a little in her throat as she saw her lovely girl crossing the footpath away from Schrivenshaft's Quill Shoppe. _She looks so pretty wearing something other than our school uniforms._ With a quick and guilty glance at Tracey, she forced herself to move away from where Hermione was walking into the Three Broomsticks alone. _Odd, I thought Potter would be with her._

Just as Hermione was almost out of sight, an older Ravenclaw girl raised her wand to cast and aimed at her back. Without thinking it through, Daphne pulled a chocolate frog from her parcels and, unwrapping it with a charm, tossed it into the wretched girl's hair. Her heart pounded as she looped her arm through Tracey's and ushered her into the nearest shop. 

_Serves her right!_ She thought viciously as the Ravenclaw and her cohorts tried to get a hopping and rapidly melting chocolate frog from her blond curls. Their shrieks were music to her angry ears even as they drew attention and laughter from the other students nearby. 

"It's lucky for you that I'm the only one that saw that," Tracey said from her side. 

She startled guiltily for a moment and then put on her haughtiest pureblood persona. "I am certain that I don't know what you mean." 

Her hope that Tracey would let it go was dashed when she looked around to verify their solitude and then looked at her with a crooked brow. "Really?" 

As a deflection, she thumped the "Support Cedric Diggory" badge that was pinned to her lapel. "A Greengrass must always find a way to strike for balance." 

Her friend was shrewd. "Or must seem to?" 

She hummed in agreement. _Better to let her think that I'm playing both ends of the dispute between Potter and Malfoy than to have her know that I let my emotions get the better of my judgement._ She deliberately walked away from the large glass window and deeper into the shop. 

The two girls browsed around the shop for a while. Happily, she found a beautiful butterfly pin with fluttering wings that she bought for her aunt's upcoming birthday. She also eyed an elegant journal bound in serpent skin with protective runes on it but could not find a way to purchase it without Tracey noticing. _Hermione would love that._ When she made her purchase, Daphne was careful to pluck a note with mail order instructions from the stack at the counter and drop it into her pocket. 

By the time the girls made their way out of the shop, it was past time for lunch. They made their way to the Three Broomsticks and opened the heavy wooden door. Immediately, they were buffeted by the noise of students, teachers and general citizens. 

Tracey flinched a bit and pitched her voice to be heard. "It's like someone took the entire Great Hall at dinner and shrunk it down!" 

Daphne nodded in acknowledgement at the apt description and looped her arm through her friend's. "This way! Madame Rosmerta has kept the family table for us." 

They crossed to a corner near the fireplace and greeted the two girls already sitting there. As Lavender and Parvati smiled at them, the table enlarged and two more chairs appeared. "Hello, Lavender, Parvati." 

Her cousin returned her pleasantries. "Hello Daphne, Tracey. Good day?" 

"It has been good enough," Daphne replied. "I bought something for Aunt Violet's birthday. Do you know if Uncle Dan is planning anything in particular for a celebration?" 

Lavender nodded. "Father is hinting that he's chosen something notable for Mother's birthday. I'm not certain what it is, but, in my last floo call home, my little brother mentioned a lot of whispering between him and Uncle Cyrus." 

She raised a brow at that bit of information. "If he's drawn my father into the conspiracy, then it ought to be quite the event." 

"Yeah, I wonder what it will mean for me, though. We usually celebrate as a family over Yule, but there are rumors that Hogwarts will host a Yule Ball to coincide with the tournament." She seemed conflicted by the prospect of missing a major social engagement in favor of family time. 

The other girls at the table launched into speculation about the Yule Ball, but Daphne was lost in thought. _No chance of Hermione and I going together… I just hope I'll be able to steal a few private dances from her in the upcoming weeks._ When she cast a glance around the room to look for her girlfriend, she thought nothing of Hagrid apparently whispering to an empty space next to him. 

Instead, she saw the Prophet photographer at the far corner of the room with a view of the door. It took her only another moment to find that hack of a writer, Skeeter, sitting at a nearby table talking to Parkinson and Malfoy. She felt a twist of anger at the reminder of that woman's ridiculous lies and how they had hurt her Hermione. _If I were already head of house, she would be dealt with most harshly._

A lull of silence at her table finally caught her attention and had her looking back at her companions. "Are we boring you, cousin?" Lavender punctuated her comment with an amused smile. "What on earth are you thinking of with that icy expression?" 

Tracey must have followed her gaze. "Parkinson? Has she actually had the gall to offend you?" 

"Not Parkinson," Daphne decided to appease them with a half-truth. "It's that Skeeter woman. She's made a circus of what should be a crowning event in wizarding Britain. After the attack at the Quidditch World Cup, our standing in the International Confederation was already diminished. Now, she's sabotaging our chance to make it up with the Tournament." 

Lavender, with uncommon seriousness, asked, "Has this damaged any Greengrass investments?" 

"Not yet," she gave her cousin a searching glance. "But Father says we risk her misbehavior reducing our influence at a time when some of our international business ventures are just becoming profitable." Grateful for a practical business matter to distract her from her love life, Daphne looked around meaningfully at the busy pub. "I can't speak of those confidential matters here, of course. But I can say that there's disunity between the houses that started the Prophet. It's that that has allowed the current editor and staff to turn it into a useless rag. It's just lucky for them that Potter's guardian hasn't decided to do something about it after that terrible article. They won half the Weasley shares in some bet a few generations ago. With the other houses unable to agree on anything, whoever's running the estate could have the entire staff sacked in a hour if they wanted." 

"Doesn't House Greengrass own a founding stake as well?" Lavender only occasionally paid attention to the family investments, but she could be quite astute when she did. "Why can't Uncle Cyrus do something if that rag is hurting our fortunes?" 

Daphne looked meaningfully at the table where Draco was laughing maliciously at something Parkinson had said to Skeeter. "We own the same stake as every other family that founded the paper. Only House Potter has a larger stake, and the Ministry holds the other half of the Weasley share. As it stands, a head of house with the ear of the Minister can combine the shares and practically write the headlines." _And he does, the poncey knob._ She left her unflattering thoughts unspoken, but everyone at the table understood that Malfoy's outsized influence in their school was directly related to his father's ability to play puppeteer for the Minister. 

"Who is Potter's guardian, anyway?" Parvati spoke up. "I heard him say last year that whoever it was hadn't signed his Hogsmeade permission slip." 

Lavender gave her a teasing shoulder bump. "Why are you interested, Parvati?" Though she asked the question, it was clear from the way she drew out her name that she was deliberately winding up the other girl. 

A scuffle under the table commenced, and Tracey rolled her eyes at them. "Honestly! You're going to spill our drinks!" They stopped and had the grace to look embarrassed. Parvati decided to explain, probably before her best friend did so for her. "My father has some… options he would like to bring up with Harry's guardian, but no one knows who to contact about them." 

_Options? Unlikely a business option… they're both a bit young even by pureblood standards, but a betrothal between his daughter and the last Potter would be quite an option indeed if Head Patil can arrange it_. The other girls began talking about prospects for themselves and which of their class were likely to end up in some sort of marriage arrangement by next year. 

Her own situation had her soured on the talk so she let her mind wander to the things she wished she could change about their world and society. _After this term, Father wants me to become more involved in our business ventures. Maybe I can proxy for our place on the publishing company board. Hermione has certainly taught me the influence that our books can have on those that are newest to our society. The muggle-borns and half-bloods don't have a voice now, but, with the way our numbers are declining, things won't stay that way. The prejudice and oppression that the Malfoys and Notts put forward won't work forever, but the light families can't seem to work together long enough to combat the movement. It's a recipe for another wizarding war._ When she heaved a heavy sigh, the rest of the table seemed to realize that she was not speaking up on this topic. 

Daphne decided to seek a distraction for her dark thoughts and rose from her chair. "I need to go back into Honeydukes before we head back." She smirked a bit at Tracey. "I promised to bring Astoria a few chocolate frogs, but I seem to have used them up as the day has passed.." 

With a laugh at their little secret, her friend also rose. They said farewell to the two Gryffindors and left the ruckus of the Three Broomsticks behind them. Neither noticed the odd rush of air or delay to the door closing behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Noise from Sansara Justinovich.  
> https://hellopoetry.com/words/noise/


	15. Lucky Discussions of the Unlucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rendezvous in the library

The library was always quiet the Sunday after a Hogsmeade trip. Most of the older students were sleeping off their busy day and late night while the younger students were outside or exploring the castle's secret passages. Hermione was happy to have the peace as she worked on her research, but she wondered how Harry was handling everything he had found out last night between Hagrid and his talk with Sirius. _Pity that we've grown too much these days to both hide under his cloak. I'd have already been started on our research hours ago instead of having to wait until this morning after he'd woken to filled me in._

Even though she had sent him up to his dorm for a nap after their early morning talk, worry for him followed her like a ghost. She was only distracted from thoughts of her friend when, as she carried her books on dragons to her favorite table, she saw that her Daphne was there waiting for her. Her mood was instantly lightened, and she smiled as the other girl lifted her wand. 

"You are the cleverest and most powerful witch in our year, perhaps the whole school, but you still insist on doing things the muggle way." She punctuated her words by levitating the large stack of books from her hands to rest them on the table. 

Hermione chuckled as she followed her texts to the table. "Likely best that I keep it way for now. I do still have to live as a muggle during breaks after all." 

"For now." When she sat her book bag down, her girlfriend quickly grabbed her hand and dropped a light kiss to her knuckles. 

"Careful, love." She whispered her admonition. 

"I ran several detection spells on the area as you walked up. At least for now, we are alone." She deliberately turned her gaze to the books in front of them as she tucked their still clasped hands under the table. "Reading up on dragons? I would guess this isn't for your Care of Magical Creatures class?" 

She reflexively tightened her grip on her girlfriend's hand as she mutely shook her head. 

"Hermione…" Daphne waited for her to meet her gaze before she said what was on her mind. "I know that you're afraid for your best friend, but this is Harry Potter. He's not some ordinary fifteen year old." 

"Fourteen…"Her voice was small as she corrected her automatically. 

"Fourteen then." She huffed out a small laugh. "That just makes my point. He's Harry bloody Potter. He's faced things before his fourth year that some Aurors would flee." 

Hermione frowned at her. "You do know that those books were written by some gannet making up nonsense, right?" 

"The books? Of course, love, the fraud over those books put the publishing company out of business. My father made me learn all about it." She pushed her hair from her face before continuing on. "But that wasn't what I was talking about. What other wizard has faced down a troll? Or something evil enough to attack a unicorn? Or sought out an acromantula colony trying to solve a mystery? Or managed to cast a corporeal patronus in a battle against a carnage of dementors? Are you going to tell me that those stories were made up nonsense?" 

"No, they weren't." She frowned at the incomplete recitation, "Though I don't know how you know about all that…" 

"Love, Ron Weasley is the second biggest attention hound in our year. I can't imagine him keeping quiet about anything you've been up to." She twisted her hand to lace their hidden fingers together. "And Malfoy has, of course, assured us that he rescued all involved from whatever was attacking unicorns in the forest. Anyone that knows him can guess that he hid behind Hagrid in terror, but it does make for an exciting story either way." 

Hermione stared down at the table top. "Ron isn't as bad as you think, but I suppose I can see your point. Harry has been through a lot and come out the other side. I guess I worry that his luck will run out this time." 

Daphne sighed and broke their clasped hands to reach for a book from the stack. "He isn't relying on luck. He has his own skills and one of the cleverest witches in Hogwarts to see him through this." She set the book on dragon handling between them. "You two will have him as prepared as anyone could, but you need to believe in it. Have faith in the work you've done and have faith in him. He will make it through this." 

Hermione could feel unshed tears burning in her eyes. In that moment, she hated everything that was keeping her from diving across the space between them and kissing her sweet Daphne. _I never thought I could hate a library!_ She thought with self-deprecating humor. 

Before she could lose her self-control, she heard a heavy footfall coming around the corner towards their semi-private table. With a gasp, she looked up towards the noise. 

"Hermione? Are you here?" A masculine voice called out softly from the other side of a bookshelf. 

She relaxed at the sound of Victor's voice but noticed a dark look cross Daphne's face before it cleared into her public composure. Leaving that conundrum for another time, she called back, "Yes, Victor, I'm here." 

He came the rest of the way into their little alcove. When he saw the both of them at the table, he sketched a bow in their direction. "Good day, I am sorry to interrupt your studies." 

Her natural courtesy came through immediately. "Not at all, Victor. It is my honor to introduce you to my classmate Daphne Greengrass." 

She had stood as the introduction was made and managed to look remarkably elegant as the older boy kissed the hand she offered in greeting. "Delighted to meet you, Mr. Krum." 

"The pleasure is mine." He bowed again before releasing her hand and glancing down at the books stacked on the table. "I am pleased to see that you are reading on dragons. They are fascinating creatures." 

Hermione smothered a smile at his failed attempt to be subtle. "They are quite fascinating. I have read that nesting mother dragons are particularly formidable especially in defense of their nests." She heard her girlfriend suck in a breath at the implications of that comment and cut a meaningful look in her direction. 

Ignoring the nonverbal byplay, he gave her a charismatic smile at that statement. "Quite so." He only glanced back to Daphne as she began to pack her bookbag. "I do not mean to prevent your work. I had only hoped to make a recommendation to Hermione on reading options." 

"There's no imposition," Daphne's chilly tone caused a different worry in her girlfriend, but it was a concern that she could not focus on now. "I have another engagement." 

Hermione tried to catch her gaze. "Will you still have time to study later today?" 

"Of course." She began to walk away from them. Before she rounded the corner and was out of sight, Hermione saw her pull out something from her bag and affix it to her robes. _Those damn badges!_ She immediately forced herself to put her anger aside and focus Victor in hopes that he had some new ideas or suggestions. _Harry needs any additional help that I can get him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Felicious from fazeofyouth - https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/luck  
> The last line reminds of Harry Potter's darkest moments...


	16. The Season for Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrived early to meet Hermione and stumbled into her and Daphne's first argument.

Harry waited until he heard the barrier to the secret passage latch behind him to remove his invisibility cloak. _Probably not what anyone would expect me to do with it, but it's such a relief to move about the castle unnoticed._ The hostility of his peers was weighing on him. When added to the stress of the tournament, it was only Hermione's support that helped him keep up a brave front. 

He stashed his cloak in the pocket of his robe, then cast his lumos. Harry enjoyed the feeling of being truly alone as he began making his way to the abandoned classroom. He was early to the meeting they had arranged before breakfast, but Ron's glares and snide remarks had steered him away from the Great Hall. 

Upon turning the last corner to get to the room, he froze. Hermione's voice was suddenly echoing through the space. "You can't know what he's actually looking for to seek me out." 

A disembodied female voice responded, "Hermione, I know better than anyone what he sees in you! I know because I see it too! As if someone like Krum would just be after a research assistant in someone 2 years younger and his competitor's school! Or perhaps you think he's the only person in this Tournament that believes in fair play?" 

Harry frowned. The second voice sounded familiar. Whatever was going on, this was something he wasn't supposed to know about. He felt a little guilty, but he stayed where he was, looking thoughtfully ahead and then behind him. 

"Daphne, I don't know if you're right about his interest, and I honestly don't care. Why would I have any interest in a fling with him when I have you?" His best friend's words came to him, and he startled. _Daphne... Greengrass?_

He stepped back a few paces and quietly cast an alert and privacy charm the twins had taught him at the broader passage behind him. Only then did he walk the rest of the way toward the hidden entrance to the classroom. Even as he was trying to absorb the implications of everything he'd heard, the girls kept talking. 

"...keeping this a secret is hard on me, too. You're the first person I've ever felt this way about." As she paused, Harry tried to decide whether to let them know he was there or just talk to Hermione later. 

When Daphne spoke up again, his impulsive nature got the better of him. "Love, I… All this gossip that's caught you up is making me irrational. I hear so much about that bloody article from Malfoy and his goons; I want to hex their lips off! I'm sorry that I ruined our time together, but can't you see that I'm only trying to protect you?" 

"How's that working for you?" Harry called into the room as he stooped to walk into the room. Almost instantly, he was facing down both their wands. "If you've got any good strategies, I'm willing to hear them." 

"Harry!" Hermione lowered her wand and used her free hand to push Daphne's down as well. "You're so early! I thought you were going to get something to eat?" 

"Yeah," He stepped the rest of the way into the room and closed the access behind him. "Ron was being a prat so I decided to make my way here in hopes that I could do some work towards the task." He nodded to the other girl. "Hello Daphne." 

"How much did you overhear?" She was standing ramrod straight and eyeing him suspiciously. 

"Not much." He addressed his next words to his friend, hoping she wouldn't be angry at him. "I wasn't deliberately eavesdropping, but whatever silencing charm was on the room didn't cover the whole of the hidden passage I was using." 

Hermione let out her breath slowly. "I didn't think of that. I guess that a section of the passage is actually part of the room from a structural standpoint." She had a thoughtful frown on her face, and he could nearly hear her recalculating the spells she would need to ensure their sanctuary stayed secluded. 

"I did hear enough to catch that the two of you are together." Harry continued answering the question. He saw Daphne get more tense and met her gaze. "I'm guessing you have your reasons for wanting it kept quiet?" 

She nodded. "Same sex relationships aren't tolerated in the wizarding world, especially among the pureblood families. Our birthrate is already low, and, between that and the fighting, whole houses are on the verge of dying out. If people found out about me and Hermione, they'd blame her... _corrupting muggle influence._ " She said those last words with a sneer that made it plain what she thought of it. 

Hermione looped an arm around the taller girl's waist and looked up at her. "I'm afraid the stress of the tournament and all the... public interest... in my romantic attachments has made things a little stressful for us." 

"I'm sorry." Harry mumbled. His cheeks were warming with a blush as the girls looked into each other eyes, seeming to have forgotten about him for a moment. He averted his gaze and noticed that one of the two squishy chairs Dobby had found and repaired was transfigured into a small sofa. _Wonder what I might have seen had I gotten here earlier?_ The thought made him feel guilty, and he kept looking around the room. To his surprise, he saw the remains of a Potter Stinks button on the ground. It looked as though it had been stomped repeatedly. _That seems like a good target for frustration to me._

"Harry," at her call, he looked back to Daphne and saw that she was looking at the badge too. "I know you didn't enter yourself in the tournament. I hate that badge, but I wear it anyway. Do you think I'm a coward for it?" 

"No." Her question had surprised him, but he answered her honestly. "I've got a lot of experience dealing with bullies, and, when the bullies live in your house with you, keeping your head down and avoiding attention is a pretty good strategy." 

"Thanks. I appreciate that." She turned back to Hermione and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'd better go. I know you two have to work on a plan for the 1st task." 

Hermione brushed a lock of soft looking hair from her face and brushed a quick kiss to the other girls lips. "I'll see you tomorrow?" 

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." She picked up a green bag that was sitting next to the small sofa and headed for the door. 

"Daphne!" At the sound of his call, she stopped. He summoned the badge and quickly cast. *Reparo* As it began flashing Potter Stinks again, he handed it to her. "Keep your head down." 

She nodded in thanks and quietly left the room. 

"Thank you, Harry, for how you handled that." She sounded hesitant. He turned back to Hermione and felt a little sick at the frightened look on her face. "Are you angry with me?" 

Before he could consciously think of a response, his honest feelings sprung from his lips. "I'm too scared to lose you to be mad at you." 

Apparently startled, she stepped towards him. "Harry, I..." 

_In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought when she trailed off. "Hermione, you're my best friend... right now, you're my only friend. If I lose you, I'll lose the plot for sure. The idea that you might get mad and cut me out of your life... or even decide that being my friend is more trouble than I'm worth... that scares me more than whoever entered me in this bloody contest." 

"Oh Harry..." She said sadly. She turned to sit on the little sofa then pat the cushion next to her in invitation. As he settled next to her, still a little worried, she continued. "You're more than my best friend, you're my first friend. The idea of us getting into another fight and not speaking to each other... I don't think I could stand it either." 

He felt his guilt return full force as he realized that last year he had put her through what Ron was putting him through now. "I'm sorry! About last year... I... I should have handled that better... I... I shouldn't have gotten mad." 

She patted his hand. "Being thrown aside last year hurt terribly. I won't lie and say that it didn't, but you had a right to be mad. I shouldn't have gone around you." She smiled softly at him, but he still couldn't meet her gaze directly. "We're two different people, and we're going to argue. Just," her voice choked briefly. "Do you think that we could make a deal?" 

He finally looked up at her, slowly feeling his heart rate slow and his stomach settle. "What sort of a deal?" 

She took on a thoughtful expression. "How about, no matter what happens, we make sure to talk at least every other day? Even if we're fighting and all we say is that we're still mad at each other and not ready to talk." 

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was still holding. "I think I like that idea. That way, no matter what, we still have each other." At that statement, she hugged him as though she'd been holding it back for ages. He wrapped his arms around her and held on in blissful relief for a long moment. Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to him, and he pulled back. "What about over the summer? My relatives don't like Hedwig flying around much." 

She laughed at that. "Harry! I have a telephone!" 

He felt himself blush in embarrassment but drew his courage up and continued. "I know you have a phone Hermione, but my relatives don't like me getting calls. Ron tried calling once, and my uncle was in a rage for hours." 

She frowned in thought. "Before we get onto the Express for holiday, we'll set a schedule for you to call me." 

"Alright." He said in relief as she pulled him in for another hug. 

After enjoying the reassurance of each other for another long moment, they pulled back. "Harry, you did well on that summoning charm a moment ago. It seems to me that, even though you can only go into the task with your wand, it doesn't have to stay that way. What do you think is the furthest you could summon something?" 

Harry grinned at the challenge, and they started working on a practice run for the task. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Winter: My Secret from Christina Rossetti  
> https://interestingliterature.com/2016/12/a-short-analysis-of-christina-rossettis-winter-my-secret/


	17. The Best Part of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne feels the effects of her fight with Hermione and does something about it.

Daphne could almost feel her own restless emotions crawling beneath her skin. In the hours since her first fight with Hermione, she had blotted ink all over a nearly completed essay and snapped at Astoria's friend Sarah. The only reason she had not lost points in charms class was that the lesson was focused on the theory of disillusionment charms. She was certain that she would have made a mess of any practical work in her distraction. 

She was back in her dorm room, having skipped dinner in the Great Hall. As her mind wandered toward finding Hermione, she berated herself. _I'm being ridiculous. She and Harry have work to do, and I'm the one that started that stupid argument anyway!_

For some reason, she had been unable to ignore Victor Krum's attention to her girl. She had never considered herself insecure and, on the rare occasion that she considered jealousy at all, had assumed that it was some character flaw that beset lesser people. If she had imagined the possibility of it impacting her, she had assumed that it would be her trying to reassure some anxious lover. _It hurt me to realize that Krum could proudly walk the grounds or through Hogsmeade with Hermione on his arm, but I can't do the same. At first, I thought this secret would be romantic, but it is so much harder than I would have imagined. I guess I just don't understand why she wouldn't throw me over to be with him. He's good looking, wealthy, and famous. She would be the envy of every girl in Hogwarts with him as a beau..._

She scrubbed her hands down her face in aggravation at her persistent and traitorous inner voice. When she brought her eyes back up to the room around her, she jolted in surprise at the presence that had joined her. 

Tracey laughed quietly. "I wondered how long until you would notice I was here!" She scooted to the edge of her own bed and let her feet dangle above the floor. "Would you like to tell me what's bothering you? You've been acting oddly all afternoon." 

Daphne leaned back against the pillows she had piled into a nest earlier and folded her legs. Once she was settled, she reached forward and patted the space across from her in invitation. Her friend gave her an odd look but crossed to her bed with a pillow of her own. Once she was settled, she closed the curtains behind and cast a few privacy spells. 

"I don't think we've done this since first year," Tracey observed. "All that's missing is a tray of biscuits nicked from the kitchen." 

Both girls jumped when a tray of assorted biscuits appeared before them along with a few sandwiches. "Who's there?" Daphne called out into the shadows of her bed. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when Dobby became visible between them. "Is Dobby, missy Greengrass. Yous missed dinner in the great hall. Dobby dids not want you to be hungry." 

"You're a dear, and we're grateful." Remembering Hermione's lecture on house elves and their preferred sustenance, she focused on her appreciation for his kindness. 

He also got some "happy magic" from Tracey when she noticed one of her favorite treats on the tray he had made. "Parlies?! You're more than a dear! You, sir, are brilliant!" 

He was almost vibrating when he bowed deeply. "Yous both very kind to Dobby!" He gave another deep bow and popped away. 

Her friend immediately began breaking one of the little ginger cookies into pieces and seemed to savor them happily. For her part, the smell of fresh, if simple, food made her realize that she had eaten nothing since her light breakfast in the great hall. _Seems that even jealousy and a fight can only put me off my appetite for one meal a day._ They ate quietly for several minutes, but she knew that they would soon be back to the topic at hand. 

"What's this?" Tracey pointed to a parchment folded intricately into a lotus blossom. "Your friend seems quite attentive, but I've never seen a Hogwarts elf bring origami flowers." 

Daphne pointed her wand and was rewarded by a glow of white before she picked up her token. When she began to carefully unfold it, her friend made a noise of protest. "It's so pretty, are you sure you want to ruin it?" 

She ignored the plaintive comment in favor of devouring the words inside: 

All I Am Cay Cay Jennings 

With trust in my eyes 

I offer my soft side... 

By the time she finished reading the short poem, her heart had melted and all she wanted was Hermione in her arms. _She still cares for me! Even with my idiocy today!_

"Well? What does it say?" Tracey's voice reminded her that her friend was still there. She guiltily glanced down at the parchment. Her first instinct was to hide it away, but that would be even more suspicious. 

Rather than risk her friend identifying the handwriting, she read it aloud. By the time she said the words "I promise you my heart" her friend had dramatically fallen back on the bed with her hand to her chest. 

"That's so very romantic!" She sighed her words. "Do you know who it's from?" In the brief silence, she seemed to hear her own words. She jerked up to attention, like a marionette whose strings had been jerked taut. "You do, don't you? That's why you were so off earlier? Some uncertainty about your mystery man?" 

She felt herself blush deeply. _I've always been awful at keeping secrets from Tracey, blast it!_ Deciding that keeping her and Hermione's secrets did not have to mean lying outright to her friend, she decided to carefully tell the truth. "I... have been seeing someone... quietly. Because neither of us wanted the attention while we were trying to decide if this... relationship could work..." 

"Quietly?!" Her friend whisper shouted in consternation and then looked around as though to assure herself they still had privacy. "Bloody hell, Daph. I think you could give lessons to spies on keeping secrets! Who is he? Is this why you've been off today? Tell me everything!" 

"I won't reveal what we've agreed to keep secret." She said this primly then sighed back onto her pillows. "But, yes, this is why I've been off today. I... feel stupid admitting this... but I got a bit jealous and picked a fight." 

"You... got... jealous?" Tracey sounded skeptical enough that she felt as though she had to defend herself. 

"I'm not as ridiculous as you make me sound! Loads of girls have lost their head over wealth or looks or fame... add them all together, and it's a heady bloody cocktail!" She snapped her jaw shut in fear that she had revealed too much. Lucky for her, her friend took her clues and went the wrong direction with them. 

"So your mystery man is wealthy, handsome and famous? Pity about Hogwarts these days... that actually only narrows it down to a half dozen blokes..." They grinned at each other, but for different reasons. Tracey was excited because she thought for certain that she had heavy hints on a grand romance. Daphne was relieved because her friend had not considered that the wealthy and famous person might be her rival rather than her leman. 

"You said you picked the fight. Are you going to make it up?" She nodded at the parchment. "Based on that poem, it seems he wants to." 

"It rather does, at that." She gave in to the urge to read the words one more time. "I think I should." She nodded as though to affirm her own decision. "I really think I should." 

"I agree," Tracey replied with enthusiasm. "I think you should make it up before curfew!" 

She jolted with shock at the suddenness. "I... I don't even what time it is!" 

A quick _tempus_ told her that it was a full two hours before curfew. This seemed to give Tracey even more impetus to encourage her. "You have plenty of time. Go find him, make up, get some kisses and then come back and tell me all about it!" 

She was flushing and flustered as the other girl broke the privacy charms by sweeping open the curtains. Fortunately the room was still empty as her friend began swishing and flicking her wand to bring combs and cosmetics to them. Romance was probably the only reason they might set aside Hogwarts biscuits. 

By the time Daphne had hidden her latest poem in the bottom of her trunk, Tracey had decided on a pair of hair combs that perfectly matched the shade of gloss she typically favored. "We'll just have to freshen up your robes, I think. If you go out to the common room in something other than normal day wear, everyone will know that something is up. You should look enough like you tried for him, but not so much like you're trying that everyone knows you're off for an assignation." 

She quickly resigned to her friend's capable hands. By the time her hair was half styled, she was in high spirits. It was a relief to have someone to confide in, even if those confidences were obfuscated. 

Thirty minutes later, Daphne's buoyant mood had faded into frustration. First, she missed the entrance to the secret passage that Hermione had showed her. Then she ended up on one of the more recalcitrant staircases. By the time she made it into Hermione's study room, her hair was frizzed, and she had eaten off her lip gloss. The fact that the room was empty should have been a relief as she could use it to refresh her careful appearance. Instead, she felt inept. 

_How can I make up with you, if you're not here!_ She thought loudly at Hermione, but it did not bring her. She took the first step into a frantic pacing motion before she stopped herself. _You are the pureblood of heiress of an ancient house and fortune. You should use this experience as a chance to practice mastering your emotions. You will not pace!_

She took a deep and calming breath. "There is bound to be a way to find her. I simply need to think of it." With the sound of her own voice came inspiration, and she called with magic in her tone; "Dobby, could you come here, please?" 

"Missy Greengrass calls for Dobby?" His voice entered the room almost a second before he did. "What's can Dobby do for the Missy?" 

"Could you tell me where Hermione is?" She asked the question firmly while hoping that he would not tell her she was in the Gryffindor Common Room. _I've no desire to venture into the lion's den._

"Missy Hermione and Master Harry Potter sir are practicing for the trials." His voice squeaked a bit as he told her. 

"Where are they practicing? Can you tell me?" She tried to keep her tone soft so as not to intimidate the little house elf. Had she thought through his history, she would have realized that she need not have worried. 

"Is you planning to help Master Harry? His Hermione is determined to help him. She say these task be very risky." Dobby nodded his head so vigorously in punctuation of his words that his ears flapped against his shoulders. 

"If I can help, I will try." She was surprised to find that she meant that emphatically. "At the least, I would like to tell Hermione that I am sorry for our fight. I hope that it will help her focus on helping him." 

Dobby gave her a piercing look. "Alls rights." He grabbed her hand and, without warning, she was standing in the dim light of evening on the deserted Quidditch Pitch. 

"Daphne?" Hermione gasped out with shock before waving at Harry to lower his wand. "What are you doing here?" 

All of this, she observed while still trying to regain her equilibrium from having been popped from the far side of the castle to outside of the grounds. As she finally managed to catch her breath, she caught Harry waving his wand in an odd version of the disillusionment charms they had just started in class. 

"We should be safe from any prying eyes, unless the twins have steered me wrong with that spell." He announced. "Hermione, do you want me to give you a moment?" 

Daphne was struck by guilt and uncertainty. _He has only a day before the first task, and I'm trying to steal his primary coach!_ "Don't go!" She took a deeper breath. "I wanted to apologize to Hermione, but I know that you need her help to practice." 

"Apologize? Daphne, love, that's not necessary." Hermione's tone was tender. 

Instead of faltering, the sweet words renewed her determination. "It most certainly is necessary. You tried to explain, and I didn't listen to you. Worse, I didn't trust you to really know what you want. I'm sorry." Daphne's words were firm, and she looked deep into her girl's chocolate eyes in hopes that she would know how deeply sincere she was. 

She was uncertain who moved first, but the girls were quickly close enough to clasp hands. _It's a pity we don't have the privacy for a cuddle. I know that I for one could use the reassurance._

The thought of their nominal privacy made her remember Harry. When she looked towards him, she smiled to see that he had turned his back to them. She squeezed Hermione's hands in affection before letting go and stepping towards him. "Harry, thank you for giving us a moment." 

He turned back to them and nodded, but didn't speak. 

"I feel like I should apologize for distracting your coach at such a crucial time." She straightened her spine in determination. "I'm willing to help you prepare in any way that I can." 

"Alright." He said quietly. "I'm not in a position to decline help at this point. Maybe you can help us refine our strategy?" 

Hermione tilted her head to him in approval. "You would have caught earlier that the first task is dragons, nesting mothers." 

Daphne flinched at the thought. _Nesting mother dragons are viciously aggressive!_ "I saw the books that you had pulled from the library." She flicked her eyes from one to the other. "But how do you know that for certain?" 

Harry shrugged, apparently embarrassed. "Hagrid took me to where they have they dragons penned. I would feel guilty about the cheating, but the Beauxbaton & Durmstrang headmasters were there as well..." He sucked in a sharp breath. "Cedric's the only one that doesn't know!" He glanced back toward the castle as though considering rectifying that immediately. 

Hermione caught hold of his forearm. "Focus on strategy and practice now, and you can focus on fairness tomorrow." Her voice was firm. 

"Yeah," He turned his head and attention back to them. "You're right. I can talk to Cedric tomorrow." 

She frowned a bit in confusion at his priorities. After all, Cedric had entered of his own free will and was three years ahead of him. "Perhaps you should have been a Hufflepuff, yourself, with that sense of fair play." 

He chuckled a bit. "That actually wasn't one of the options the sorting hat mentioned to me, honestly. Slytherin, yeah, but not Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw." 

She raised her brows in surprise and surveyed his worn trainers, rumpled robes and messy hair. "I can't see you in Slytherin, but perhaps the hat was hoping one of us would do something about your hair." 

He barked out a laugh at that comment. "Now that would be an ambitious undertaking!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes at their word play. "That's all well and good, but we've only a day and a half before the task. With classes, that's only a few hours to really work on this." Brown eyes flicked back and forth between green and blue. The teens became serious in acknowledgement of her point. "Good. Now, we know that Harry will have to go against a nesting mother dragon, but we don't know the goal of the task. We know that he has to start out with only his wand, but we've realized that nothing requires it stay that way. He's been working on the summoning chain that you designed, but that's as far as we've gotten for strategy." 

"Professor Moody said something to me today about playing to my strengths, but I wasn't sure what to do with that suggestion. Do you have any ideas?" He sounded dubious about the suggestion, and it occurred to her that the Boy Who Lived was not nearly as confident as she expected. 

"There are a lot of things you're good at, but, as far as things that could apply in this instance, maybe we should think through what they're likely to have as the goal of the task." She wandered over to the first row of the Quidditch stands and sat down. "Facing off against a nesting mother dragon is what makes it challenging, but it can't be the goal. Dragon slaying for sport is illegal and has been for centuries." 

Hermione hummed in thought. "That's true... so perhaps you have to get past her? Maybe like an obstacle course? A deadly one?" 

"Ha!" He sounded cynical rather than amused. "That would make sense in this bloody tournament... It's a pity I can't summon a Hippogriff, I'd just fly right past her!" As he heard his own words, his eyes went wide with excitement. "Fly! That's it Hermione! I can summon my broom and fly myself out of the task!" 

Her breath caught in her throat at the idea. Hermione seemed similarly affected as she sputtered in speechlessness. "Fly past... You want to out maneuver... Harry! We are talking about a bloody dragon!" 

The sound of a curse coming from her own voice seemed to stun her into quiet, and Harry took the moment to make his case. "Hermione, we have some big pieces towards a plan. If we had a few weeks, we could really pull something together and make it work... but we don't have that kind of time. I'm going to have to improvise... I can do that best on my broom. We both know it won't be the first time I've had to fly for my life." 

That comment raised a dozen questions in Daphne's mind, but it seemed to put most of Hermione's arguments to rest. "I still don't like it." She sighed deeply, "I don't like it, but I understand your point." 

He gave his best friend a smile, and called out. "Dobby!" The little elf popped before them. "Would you please get my broom from my trunk and set it next to the window in my dorm room?" 

He nodded and popped away, but he was promptly called back. "Yes Master Harry Potter, sir?" 

"Open the window for me, please? I'm going to be summoning my broom through it and I don't want to break it." The girls laughed at that, and Harry continued with his instructions. "Come back when you're done, please." 

Within minutes, the house elf was back. "Is done, sir." 

"Thank you," Harry replied. "You can stay with us, if you like." 

Dobby nodded and sat on the Quidditch stand seat next to Daphne. To her surprise, Harry took a casting stance and began drawing out her summoning chain. She flickered a frown at his movements. _Something's off._

To her surprise, the broom rapidly became a speck in the distance. It then became a streak as it flew toward Harry dodging obstacles along the way. Just as it came to a stop and hovered before him, she realized what was bothering her. "That's my summoning spell chain, but you switched the _Intervallum and Impedimenta."_

_"_ Yeah, uh..." He sounded bashful. "You don't mind, do you?" 

"Mind? Only that I didn't see it myself!" She stood and stepped toward where he and Hermione were standing next to the hovering Firebolt. "Hermione helped me with a few problems with that spell chain, but neither of us saw that simple improvement. Once we got it to work, we stopped tweaking it." 

Her dear girl spoke up. "It's a brilliant little change, don't you think? He eliminated two transitional wand movements." 

He shrugged, apparently uncomfortable. "Just made it easier for me to cast, is all." 

"That's not all, Harry." Daphne frowned at his unwillingness to accept credit for his spell craft. "By removing the transitional movements, you made it faster to cast and more powerful." 

Hermione struck his upper arm lightly. "That's what I've tried to tell him, but he keeps insisting it's nothing. I think we should get him to review a few of the other spell chains we've been working on. Maybe he'll see something else that we missed." 

Daphne nodded in agreement. "Maybe we can work more on the locking and privacy spell chain. I still say there has to be a way to incorporate a silencing charm into the chain without the alerts being so unpleasantly sensitive." 

Hermione's eyes widened in excitement. "I think that's a great idea. I've been researching for a different silencing spell to try but maybe it's just the order or transitions that we're using." 

"I understand now." Harry's voice broke into their bubble and reminded her that they were not alone. She and Hermione both looked to him as he continued. "I see now, how you two fit together." He focused on Daphne with the gaze some lovestruck younger years called his _emerald stare_. "I'd have kept your secret to protect Hermione, but now I know that you can make her happy in the way she deserves. So long as you do that, I'll help you both however I need to." 

She could feel her eyes burn with the threat of tears. His faith in her was sudden and stunning. It was something she would never have imagined earning. Her voice was husky as she replied, "Thank you." She swallows to clear her voice. "I think, though, that the best thing we both can do to keep Hermione happy is practice for your task. She'll be most displeased if you're hurt." 

Hermione gave a brisk nod that did not quite hide the watery shine to her own eyes. "Quite so! Harry, I think you've got a good start on the summoning work but let's keep practicing that tonight. Tomorrow, you should spend some time in the air since you've had less chance to fly this year. We will need to design some sort of course for you before breakfast." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Hermione sent was All I Am by Cay Cay Jennings - https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_i_am_703321


	18. Strategic Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets some help to prepare Harry for dragons.

The day before the tournament, Hermione woke earlier than usual. She felt a sense of urgency and quickly grabbed her biro and journal to note down her thoughts with a combined list and diagram. _We'll need help to pull off a proper practice run but perhaps the twins will have some ideas realistic obstacles. We don't have much time at all... I'll have to get some more planning done before breakfast._

Once she felt she had enough written out that she could reclaim her inspiration later, she cast a tempus. She felt relieved to note that it was actually an hour before the Hall would begin serving breakfast. Quickly getting dressed, she grabbed her book bag, assembled the night before as always, and left the dorm. Her sleeping roommates were undisturbed by the click of the door behind her. 

Once she was down in the common room, she glanced up the boys dormitory staircase. While it was tempting to go and fetch Harry or the twins directly, the boy's domain was a mysterious and slightly off putting place. She had no desire to see how her friends truly were in private. Ginny's stories of how disgusting it was to share space with her brother's over the summer had horrified her. 

She was hesitant to bother Dobby after having him deliver her messages to Daphne the night before. Just as she resigned herself to call him, she heard footsteps on the boy's stairs. The sight of the twins had her grinning at her good luck. "Good morning, Fred, George! You're just two people I was hoping to speak with!" 

The two boys shared a look of concern. "Not usual for people to be so happy to see us," one of them announced. 

"Not usual at all," the other agreed. "And when it has happened, it's never been this early." 

The both nodded. "People that are looking for us this early, are usually not happy with us at all." 

After their usual game of verbal ping pong, the boys seemed to come to a silent consensus. They walked over to opposite sides of the couch that Hermione sat on and vaulted themselves over the arms to settle beside her. "We are intrigued!" The eerie unison statement might have bothered some people, but she had grown immune to their antics in the past few years. 

"I need your help to get Harry some practice sessions before the task tomorrow. We're running very short on time, and he needs to be as prepared as possible if he's going to come out of tomorrow alive." She looked back and forth between them, hoping that they did not share their brother's angry jealousy over Harry's place in the tournament. 

To her relief, they began nodding. "Well, we were originally planning to set up a little prank before breakfast for our later risers... but we can save that for next week!" 

To her left, Fred waved a hand expansively as he continued his brother's statement. "We absolutely want the boy that showed us up on getting into this contest to make a good showing for Gryffindor! That's much more important than..." He trailed off with a secretive smile. "Besides, maybe the son of the Marauders will share his secret!" 

She hmphed at that. "I'm not sure that his secret would have helped you anyway. Afterall, you'd have to go back in time; kill Voldemort and make mortal enemies of all his Death Eaters." 

George gave her a solemn look. "Are you sure that's what happened?" When she began to angrily protest, he held a hand and pleaded with her. "Wait, wait... That's not what I meant." She snapped her mouth closed with a click and waited in indignant silence. "Me and Fred... we didn't really figure that Harry entered himself. He was too miserable over the whole thing for it to have been him." 

His brother picked up their explanation. "When we saw how Ron was acting, we figured it was some fan of Harry's that wanted to see him compete. Didn't imagine he'd be such a bell end if someone was actively trying to do in his best mate." 

"Ron isn't speaking to Harry... and he won't listen to me when I try." She sighed. "But that isn't why I approached you two. You're the best strategists that I know, and Harry only has today to firm up his plans and practice. Less that than when you consider classes." 

"Classes?" The twins exchanged a look across her. "We heard Cedric has been excused from class to work with the coaches his family hired." 

"Excused from classes? We certainly didn't know that was an option! I am so -" She cut herself off and forced herself to focus. "Never mind that for now. I was hoping to get the two of you to look over what we have for strategy and maybe help design a practice run. We won't have much time to implement it, but, if we work fast, we can get a practice in at lunch and after dinner." 

Both boys nodded in unison and, Fred, mirroring her business like tone, said, "Let's see what you have so far." 

By the time Harry came down an hour later, Hermione and the twins had decided on a location and basic structure for their trial run. By the looks of his damp collar, he had dressed straight from the shower without bothering to cast a drying charm on his messy hair. 

The twins shook their heads in mock dismay. "Harry... Harry, my boy..." 

They converged on him from opposite sides and looped each of his arms through one of theirs. "How do you expect to catch a girl with such slovenly habits?" 

As the boys led their confused and protesting hostage out of the painting guarded doorway, Hermione quickly scooped all their parchments into her bag and followed. 

A few moments later, after being a waylaid by a second year that wanted some tutoring, she found the boys in an alcove near the common room entrance. "You'll have to give us a chance to help you, mate, if you want to get a proper practice at dragon taming before tomorrow." 

"I appreciate your efforts, but I need to catch up with Cedric. Then I've got transfiguration." Harry was protesting against the twin's efforts when she found them. He sounded anxious, and she stepped forward so that he would see that she was there. 

"The twins told me that Cedric had been excused from classes today. While I doubt Professor Snape will agree to the same for you, we can ask Professor McGonagall to be excused from this morning's classes." She tried to sound encouraging. "That will give us some time to run through the practice course that the twins and I came up with this morning." 

"She won't excuse me. She said she was barred from helping me with the tournament. If she was going to let me out of class, she already would have." His reply disturbed her less than his body language. She knew the stubborn set to his jaw very well after three years of friendship. 

"Harry, we don't know if Cedric was offered the excuse or asked for it. While I agree that it's not fair for the staff to expect it of you, you'll have to start advocating for yourself if you're going to come through this!" As soon as she started speaking, he curled his shoulders in defensively. The twins' nods of agreement only seemed to make him feel even more isolated. 

"I've tried! You know that I've tried!" He waved his hands in agitation. "Ever since first year, none of them have listened! Especially McGonagall!" 

She drew a breath to correct his disrespectful address, but the flair of his nostrils stopped her. _He's not going to listen this way. I've got to find a way to not make this worse._ "I know you've tried Harry, and I've been right there when it hasn't worked, but..." suddenly, inspiration struck, "How many times did you attempt a Patronus before you were able to cast it?" 

"It's not the same," he slunk away from Fred and leaned against the far wall. 

George piped up, "Maybe not, but I'm certainly curious... How many times?" 

He looked up from his shoes, "Dunno, I guess I lost count." 

Fred looked over his brother, "How many times did we try making those gack-cubes that Mum hates so much?" 

"Blimey, George!" He seemed to think for a moment. "We started working on those back in first year." He looked over at Harry. "Took forever to get them to look and smell just like normal sugar cubes. First time we got Percy with one, he said everything tasted like Limburger cheese for three days!" 

Hermione failed to completely smother her laugh even as she gave them her most disapproving look. "Those things are revolting!" 

As Harry gave a weak smile, she credited Fred and George for lightening his mood. "I see what you're trying to say about persistence, but magic isn't the same as convincing adults." 

She sighed as she nodded to herself and made a decision. "You're right, it's not. But convincing adults is possible, I've done it." When he looked over at her with curiosity, she drew up her courage. "Have you ever wondered why my parents agreed to send me back to Hogwarts after I was petrified in second year?" 

He shrugged. "Guess I figured they didn't know about it?" 

She filed that assumption away for later consideration. "The Hogwarts charter requires that any illness or injury that requires a miss of more than two sessions of class be evaluated by the school's healer and notification of the results be sent to the student's sponsor." Something niggled at her subconscious, but she continued. "Not only that, but I write my mum and dad every week." 

"So, I'm guessing that they wanted to pull you from Hogwarts after that?" Harry frowned in thought. 

"After I told them the whole story, they were insistent that I go anywhere else for school. Mum even had Professor McGonagall get her brochures for an Ilvermony transfer program, and Dad got information on what they would have to do move their practice." When the twins mouthed Ilvermony with wide eyes, she continued. "It took ages of talking, and arguing and negotiating, but I was able to convince them to let me come back for one more year. I had to keep my grades up and complete some extracurricular requirements so that I would be eligible for transfer if needed, but, when I didn't have any injuries in third year, they agreed that I could stay for fourth." 

Her breath left her at the horror on Harry's face. "They'd have sent you to another school?" 

"Yes, Harry," She whispered. "I realize that's a bit of an extreme example, but I wouldn't have known how to handle that if I hadn't had some experience advocating for myself before then." 

He slouched again and went back to staring at his shoes. When George looked like he was going to speak, she caught his eye and shook her head. _I know what a thinking Harry looks like._

After a long silence, he spoke up. _"_ All right, I'll try if you will." She grinned at him as he continued. "But I still need to find Cedric. It's not fair that he's the only one that doesn't know about the dragons." 

Fred stepped towards them, "Alright you two, we have a plan with time to spare. You two go find our other champion and get excused from classes. We'll get our excuse and some food from the kitchen. Meet us at the far side of the Quidditch pitch in one hour." 

Hermione kept pace with Harry and kept an eye out for obstacles as he watched Cedric's dot on the Marauder's map. "Ok, he's heading for the library. Guess he made quick work of breakfast." He folded the map and swung his book bag around to place it in a pocket. 

"Alright, we'll talk strategy on the way." She said briskly. 

"Strategy? Shouldn't we wait for meeting the twins?" He replied, apparently confused. 

She tried not to sigh. "Strategy for meeting Professor McGonagall. We're going to need some clear and concise reasons for her to agree to our request." 

"Alright... that makes sense." They walked in silence past a few second year students before Harry spoke up again. "Seems that one thing we should do is turn in our essays. That way she knows we're not trying to shirk our work." 

She gave him an approving smile. "That's a good idea. Most of the double session for today is set to focus on the practical so she may want us to demonstrate our switching spell." 

He practically grinned back at her. "Guess that work wasn't a waste of time last week after all." 

Before she could reply, they were at the door to library. Harry gave her a glance and preceded her inside. While he looked for Cedric at the tables, she walked over to return the books on manticores that she had checked out. 

She turned back to look for Harry, and he and Cedric were shaking hands. When he walked toward the door, she intercepted him and kept pace while he walked out. "That was fast." 

He shrugged. "Doesn't take long to say: tomorrow is nesting mother dragons. Thought you should know." 

She scoffed at him. "Surely that isn't all you said." When he shrugged again in reply, she continued. “And what did he say?” 

“Thanks,” he said with a smirk. 

She threw up her hands. “I’ll never understand boys!” 

He laughed as she strode ahead of him in mock frustration. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Order is Chaos https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1789833/order-is-chaos/


	19. The Body Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets help and prepares to face a dragon.

Their levity faded as they got closer to Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry drew himself up and tried to prepare himself for a battle of words. _Not my usual weapon._ He was glad that Hermione was there with him to knock briskly at the office door. He might have talked himself out of this without her. 

At the invitation to enter, they stepped through the door and faced their stern professor and head of house from across her desk. “Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. What brings to you to my office? Surely anything you need could be addressed in class. After all, it starts in less than an hour.” 

Harry tensed at the reminder of their shortage of time. “We’ve come to hand in our essays on switching spells and asked to be excused from class today so that we can prepare for the task tomorrow.” 

Her lips pinched in disapproval, and Harry could practically feel her preparing to say no. “You know that I am unable to provide you with any assistance in your preparation for the tournament, Mr. Potter.” 

His spine went so straight at her tone that he thought there might be rod through it. “I am not asking for anything that wasn’t granted to the other champions by their instructors, Professor. I'm hardly requesting that you provide with me special coaching to catch me up to my peers in this tournament.” He bit back the rest of his words when Hermione brushed the back of his hand with hers. 

With gratitude, he let her pick up the discussion. “Professor, I appreciate your regard for the letter and spirit of the tournament rules, but Harry is the youngest and only unwilling participant. We are only asking for a little extra time to prepare him for a task that could see him killed. We have done the work on switching spells and mastered the practical application last week. We will find a double session to work on his strategy for staying alive tomorrow far more useful than revising a lesson we already completed.” 

“If you think this will be so difficult, why do you expect that a few extra hours will leave you better prepared?” Even as she asked the question, something in her posture suggested that she was considering their request. 

With that glimmer of hope, Harry spoke up. “Hermione and I have been practicing and preparing since the selection. That’s why we’ve already mastered the switching spell. We thought we might find it useful. For today, we’ve asked the twins to help put me through my paces. They agreed so that I wouldn’t shame Gryffindor with a poor showing.” 

She hummed in thought for a brief moment. “Very well, Mr. Potter.” She stood behind her desk and put her quill next to her ink pot. “If you can demonstrate to me that you have mastered the switching spell, you and Miss Granger may turn in your essays and be excused with extra work in lieu of classroom credit.” 

Harry nodded to her and drew his wand. As she and Hermione watched, he focused on his magic and the properties of the blank parchment on her desk. Visualizing his completed essay in his bag, he pushed the magic through his wand and was rewarded by the sight of his work appearing in place on her desk. 

He knew that the quirk of her lips at the corner was not his imagination as she set his essay to the side. “Very well, Mr. Potter. You and Miss Granger will be excused from my class today.” She lifted her quill and began to write. “After the task tomorrow, the two of you are to write me an essay on which transfiguration spells could have improved your performance in the task. For demonstration, you are to each select a different example from your essay and successfully perform it. You will have two weeks to complete this.” 

He felt flooded with relief. _I really didn’t expect that to work._ “That’s very agreeable, Professor.” Hermione replied as he was standing in stunned silence. She gestured to the parchment with her instructions. “May I?” When the professor nodded, she drew her own wand. With a look of concentration, the parchment with their assignment was replaced by her essay. 

The professor gave them each one of her rare smiles. “Well done, the both of you. Good luck in your preparations.” 

The early success buoyed his mood such that he still had a bounce in his step when they joined the twins. The red heads crouched on opposite corners of the small clearing north of the broom shed activating carefully placed crystals. With a wave, Fred left George to complete the task while he skipped over to meet them. 

"Harry, my boy! You faced the lioness of Hogwarts and came through victorious! Well done!" He enthusiastically grabbed and pumped his hand. The force of the hand shake shook Harry's smaller frame and made him curse his stature silently. 

Hermione laughed at his antics and opened a small equipment trunk stood before them. Inside were several snitches and bludgers. She addressed Harry, "We decided that, since we don't know what the true goal of tomorrow's task will be, we would focus this morning on having you chase down some practice snitches while we try to stop you." 

He frowned a bit. "I thought Oliver said the practice snitches don't fly very high?" He looked to Fred for his answer. 

"That's true but they make up for that by being fast. In fact, the smaller of a ring you give them, the more they try to avoid you." He waved a hand behind them where George was activating the last crystal. "Once he's done, we'll have you go after one to get a feel for it. Then we'll start obstructing." 

Harry nodded in acknowledgement and drew his wand. As he summoned his broom, George cut across the oval course, dodging around boulders and columns that dotted the course. 

"We're all set," he called out. His eyes focused on something behind them, but Harry ignored his approaching broom in favor of making note of the white shining crystals that marked his boundaries. 

"I'm ready when you are," he told them, eager to be back in the air. Fred plucked a wriggling snitch from the trunk and released it into the makeshift arena. Grinning, Harry mounted his waiting broom and rushed after it. 

The wind rushed in his ears, and joy bubbled up within him. While he soared through the air, his troubles fled from him mind. The first time his fingers grazed the snitch, less than a minute after he raced after it, he veered off. Instead, he shot around the space before chasing after the snitch again. 

This time the snitch zigged and zagged as he gained on it. He whooped in delight as he added a burst of speed and snatched the little ball from the air. He resisted leaving the air and took an unwarranted victory lap before flying back to his friends. 

"That felt good," he announced unnecessarily. "What should we do next?" 

Nerves tingled up his spine as the twins reached for the bludgers in the trunk and exchanged identical evil grins. "Let see how well you do with us after you." 

An hour later, the snitch slipped from his grasp as Harry dodged the crazed red head flying at him kamikaze style. His sweat drenched palms slid along the smooth handle of his broom. Suddenly, he spied the second snitch. With an eye to his enemies, he feinted back toward Fred and curved his feet around his broom for extra stability. 

Distracted, the twins angled to guard the first snitch. Yanking on the handle, he spiraled upward. The snitch landed into his lowered palm. Harry followed through the rotation to drop the snitch into his charmed pocket. 

A bludger rocketed his way. He was forced into a roll to avoid it. Still spinning, he glimpsed his prey. His feet clung to his broom as he plucked his quarry from the air. Rather than call out to his opponents, he flew back to where Hermione stood with an old style stopwatch. 

He wearily dismounted. Handing her both snitches, he collapsed into the grass at her feet. "Time?" 

"Seven minutes and thirty-three seconds," she responded as the twins approached. "Very nicely done. You shaved a full three minutes off your time and managed to avoid any impacts this go." 

Fred reached into a basket that rested behind their equipment trunk. Clanks and crashing sounded from within as he extended his reach until his arms were entirely inside. He crowed in success when he came back out holding a large quilted blanket. "Who's for breakfast while we plan out our next run?" 

Harry patted Hermione's shoulder in reassurance. She tensed with nerves under his hand. "Are you sure this a good idea? I could really hurt you doing this!" 

"If I freeze in front of that dragon, I'll end up worse than hurt tomorrow." He squeezed the knotted muscle under his hand and let go. "I trust you, Hermione." 

"Ah, Fred! Is there anything sweeter than that?" George exclaimed this from the top of a transfigured column in their arena, but Harry did not bother to look that way. 

"No, George," His brother replied doing a lazy loop in the air above them. "The care of a gladiator for his coach! There is nothing more lovely!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes and shot a thin jet of water from her wand at him. He rolled to miss his drenching and hollered, "Save it for the run! Harry, get in the air and let's go!" He gave his friend one more pet then stepped away. 

The firebolt leapt into his hand, and he sprang into action. Leaning forward, he raced for the center of the arena where George stood with his first prize. The world blurred past, but his prey leapt out of his path at the last moment. He windmilled his arms for balance as Harry banked his turn. 

Going back for another pass, he spied a glint flying through the air. "Accio my - " Air rushed towards him and he yanked upward on his handle. The bludger barely missed him. He cursed the whirl of Gryffindor colours above him. 

Laughter rang out behind him as he leveled out. A rush of water sounded out forcing him to take evasive action. _At least in Quidditch I get a bit of a break!_ He knew that was the point. 

He shut out the blurs and sounds around him. He angled his flight path into a search pattern and listened for – _There!_ Fred thwacked his bat. Harry barrel rolled to avoid an impact. 

Suddenly, heat blasted towards him. He jerked his broom as air currents sent him out of control. Hermione screamed. Blue and green swirled together. He gripped his broom desperately. 

Disoriented, he forced his broom handle toward his face. He and his broom sped that direction. The green blur of the ground approached too fast to loop himself upright. He leveled out, his hair brushing the grass. He shouted out, "Accio my glasses!" 

They flew into his hand, and he rolled himself upright. When he settled them on his face with a grin, the world sharpened into focus. Fred whooped in delight, and George released three practice snitches. _I'm not done yet!_

The dungeon dank filled his nose as Harry walked with Hermione toward their afternoon class. He kept his voice low as they approached the students grouped in the hall. "I understand your point, really. But it's helpful to know how the heat changes the air currents so that I can adjust in flight." He fell silent when the Slytherins closest to him changed their badges to flash Potter Stinks. 

Draco sneered at them. "Looks like our school cheater and his mudblood have arrived. Tell us, Granger, does it bother you that he's just using you to replace his precious mummy?" 

Pansy cackled loudly, "She's a poor replacement. At least his muggle mummy was supposed to have been pretty!" 

"He'll find out tomorrow! With the death rate for the tournament, he's probably going to be seeing her again!" As their lackeys laughed, the door to the potions lab opened for them. He tossed another taunt over his shoulder. "Try not to haunt the Quidditch pitch, Pottey. No one-" 

Goyle crashed into Crabbe and they both tumbled to the ground. Malfoy, annoyed at being cut off, turned back to glare at them. "Get up, you idiots. And you'd better not have damaged my supplies!" 

Harry carefully led Hermione around the flailing boys to a potion station at the center of the room. He spied Daphne slipping her wand back into her sleeve and bit back a smile. He efficiently set up their station while Hermione measured out their ingredients for the potion. He kept his head down to avoid Professor Snape's attention. 

Fortunately, Goyle seemed to have crushed Malfoy's vial of Moonwater. "You buffoon! All of my supplies are ruined thanks to you!" 

"What seems to be the problem?" The Professor demanded. 

Malfoy spoke up. "An accident on the way into class, sir." 

"I see. Mr. Malfoy, you may use my personal store for today's work." He offered, to the indignation of the Gryffindors in the room. "Mr. Goyle, you will be more careful in the future. The rest of you, get started!" 

Draco strutted into the adjoining office and came back with a tray of fresh looking ingredients. Harry ignored the arrogant peacock and chopped his own ingredients carefully. He and Hermione worked quietly. He surveyed their progress with pleasure. Everything was cut, and the Moonwater steamed lightly. _We might actually do alright with this one._

"Idiot, you've practically masticated the ginger! The recipe plainly says to mince it!" Millicent growled at Goyle. "This is the most time sensitive part of the potion! Can't you get anything right?" 

There was a swell of murmuring and mumbling on the Slytherin side of the room. "Millicent, we've minced too much, but it won't be enough for your whole batch." Tracey's voice carried. 

"Give her what we can spare." Daphne spoke with command. "Blaise, do you have extra that will add to it?" 

Professor Snape lingered in the far corner of the room. "Ten points to Slytherin for cooperation." 

Hermione grumbled under her breath. "We'd have lost points for wasting ingredients." 

He scraped their ginger into the cauldron as she stirred. _Guess that's one up side of the tournament. I'm too worried about tomorrow to be angry about a few house points._

He caught a whiff of a noxious odor and twisted to check on Neville behind him. "Potter! Focus on your own station!" Professor Snape's command whipped out before he could find the source of the smell. 

Yellowish steam wafted from their cauldron. Hermione increased her revolutions as Harry began clearing the unneeded supplies from their work space. He was just checking the board for their next phase when putrid green smoke began pouring from Malfoy's cauldron. Pansy gagged loudly as sludge bubbled out and splashed onto him. 

"Everyone out of the room!" Professor Snape barked over the noises. "Malfoy, Parkinson, to the hospital wing. The rest of you, two feet on proper ingredient preparation by next class!" 

The students poured out into the hall. Several Slytherins stationed close to Malfoy had pus leaking from their tear ducts. They all scattered quickly, some for the hospital wing and others for their common room. 

Harry grumbled to himself. "It would be a day when our potion was turning out right." He bumped Hermione. "Think we can get another practice run in before dinner?" 

"Yeah," She agreed. "I'll arrange us a little help and meet you there." 

Twenty minutes later, Daphne stared at him incredulously. "You want me to shoot fire at you? Have you gone completely mad?" 

"Maybe." He shrugged, "but I'll have a dragon breathing fire at me tomorrow." 

"Which I would think would be enough for anyone!" She sputtered in a way that he would never have imagined from her demeanor in classes. 

"Daph," Hermione interrupted gently. "He needs to be as prepared as we can make him. Please?" 

She glanced down at his broom. "What fireproofing does that have on it?" 

Harry smirked. "Comes with a level 3 fireproofing. I think it was just a gimmick cause of the name, but I'm glad to have it anyway." 

She considered them both. "If you're sure this what you want, I'll help." 

"Thank you!" He grinned at her. 

"Oh of course! After all, when can a girl say that someone was glad to have her shoot fire spells at him?" She scoffed at him. "Where should I set up?" 

He thinned his lips in thought. "How are you on a broom?" 

His heart pattered at her roguish smile. "Seems that you're about to find out." She laughed. "Get in the air, Potter. I'll be right behind you test to that fireproofing." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title was inspired by the first part of Musashi by Paolo D Cristobal.  
> https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2169466/musashi/


	20. Here Be Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first task has finally arrived. An isolated Ron watches helplessly.

The chatter in the Great Hall was even louder than usual. Anticipation was high for the 1st task of the tournament, and Ron could hear bets being placed on any conceivable aspect of the event. He felt a flicker of worry for Colin when he overhead him talking to Seamus. 

The eager muggle born told their housemate, "I bet Draco Malfoy 20 Galleons that Harry would come through in first place! I know you said never to bet with a Slytherin, but..." 

When he stopped talking abruptly, Ron looked up to see that Professor McGonagall was directing Harry out of the hall. He quickly dropped his gaze back to his plate but even he was unsure why. _Don't know what would be worse at this point; having to look him in the eye or him not even looking my way... Bugger all!_

He let out sound of disgust that made him feel a little better and rose to go meet his family near the Quidditch Pitch. When Ginny fell into step beside him, he gave her a companionable shoulder bump. 

She grinned up at him, seemingly excited for the event, then laughed. "You'd better clean the mess off your tie. Mum will fuss all over you if she sees." 

In horror, Ron looked down and saw the glob of sauce. "Thanks Gin!" He said as he quickly cast a cleaning spell. "Do you see anything else?" 

She appraised him from feet to head. "Your hair's gotten a little long again, but there's not much you can do about that. I'll think you'll be alright." She straightened his tie. "If she starts in on you outside of that, I'll just make a point to ask the twins how they managed to turn Professor Moody's desk yellow." 

He choked out a laugh. "Nice one, Gin! That'll distract her for sure." He thought for a moment as they walked along. "Guess if she starts in on you, I'll ask the twins what they did to earn a week long ban from the library. I've been wondering about that anyway." 

She grinned up at him. "So have I! Mum would have it out of them for sure!" 

He spotted Hermione ahead of them and lost his levity. "Think Mum'll invite anyone else to sit with us?" 

She followed his gaze. "Not sure. She has always been a devoted follower of Rita Skeeter's nonsense. I think Neville could save Hermione a seat though. Augusta Longbottom has always intimidated Mum, so that would keep things even." 

The dragon handlers were carefully laying eggs into a straw lined stone nest when Ron cleared the steps into the stands. His stomach clenched at the sight. _I didn't know they'd be mums. I didn't even get a chance to tell Harry that Charlie was going to be in country at all. Stupid bloody arsehole, I am!_

"Go on, Ron, don't dawdle!" His mother called from behind him. "We've plenty of people to get settled, dear." 

He broke his self-loathing paralysis and stepped over to the far end of the seat. "That wall is amazing, Ron." Ginny lowered herself next to him. He followed her gaze and took in the whole of the arena. 

There was a great cliff of solid rock towering above the stone hollow nest. The boulders scattered along looked small but only by comparison to the transfigured wall. A low archway hunched at the far end, only big enough for one person to pass through. 

The dragon handlers marched an entranced Welsh Green dragon into the far corner of the pen where the wall curved round and curled over. The four tamers danced their wands before her eyes as they stepped backwards to lead her in. The crowd hushed at the impressive show of skill. 

Once she ducked her head below a shelf of rock, they curved back around. She followed them into the circle and lay next to her nest. The figures quickly shifted formation and covered the dragon as they left. 

The true danger of their task revealed itself when the previously docile creature sniffed and nuzzled her eggs. Something in the scent disturbed her. She shook her head as though to shake off the last of her trance. Spotting the handlers, she charged. 

They scrambled through the gate. Thwarted, the beast roared in rage. Ron's bones vibrated in his chest, and he heaved in a shaky breath. 

His mum buried her anxiety in aggravation. "I do wish that Charlie would find safer work. Those beasts can do horrible damage, and it's not getting him any chance to find a nice girl." 

Fred nudged a picnic basket aside with his foot to look over at her. "Not sure Charlie'd be happy with any girl that didn't love dragons like he does, Mum." 

"Hmph," she grumped and crossed her arms across her chest. "A dragon preserve is no place to raise a family." 

Putting on his best manners, Ron called out, "Good day, Madame Longbottom. Hullo, Neville." 

His mother shot him a proud smile, then echoed his greetings. "Good day to you Madame Longbottom. Hello, Neville dear." 

"Greetings, Mrs. Weasley." The wizened woman nodded to his mum. "I see that you have your whole family in company today." 

"Most of them," his mum corrected her. "Bill's still in Egypt working for Gringotts and two of my boys are working on the tournament." 

"It seems this tournament is taking up quite a few resources. I was not pleased to see the funds for this appropriated from other Hogwarts programs that benefit the whole student body." Her severe tone carried over when she addressed her grandson. "You need to move over Neville, so that more people can sit down." 

"I've a friend going to join us, Gran," he stammered out. "She went to go wish Harry luck." 

She seemed to soften at that. "Very well. You could have gone to wish him luck as well, Neville. He might have appreciated it." 

"I think it's good of Neville to give dear Harry a bit of time to focus," his mum interjected. "My Ron is his best friend but didn't want to distract the boy. Right, Ron?" 

Neville cut Ron a sharp look. He was saved from having to agree when George jumped in. "Hermione's been acting as Harry's coach for the tournament, Mum." 

She frowned at him. "I hardly see how another fourth year can coach him properly, no matter how bright she thinks she is." 

Neville flushed in irritation, and Ron knew he'd get an earful next time they were alone. Hermione stepped into the row from the stairs and was waved over. Ron squirmed to get comfortable as pleasantries were exchanged all around. 

"Miss Granger, the Weasley twins were explaining that you've taken on coaching duty for Mr. Potter. While I'm disappointed in the necessity, I'm very impressed by your initiative." Madame Longbottom shot a quelling look to his mum. 

"Thank you for the recognition, Madame Longbottom, but we wouldn't feel near so prepared without Fred and George's willingness to help." She smiled at his brothers, and the tension eased in the group. 

"Happy to help!" Fred piped up. "After all, how often does a bloke get asked to lob bludgers at his own seeker?" 

George elbowed him. "Shut it, Fred! You'll ruin the surprise!" 

Before he could puzzle that out or sink back into his longing for his friend, Ludo Bagman stepped forward. "Greetings to all! Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!" He paused for applause. "Today will be a grand show of daring and skill for our champions as they face off against Nesting Mother Dragons!" 

The crowd roared in enthusiasm. Already pacing in distress, the Welsh Green bellowed back. In the stunned silence, Bagman spoke up again. "This one's certainly impressive!" He forced a laugh. "The champions will have to retrieve a golden egg from the dragon's nest. They will be judged on skill, creativity, speed and damage. Any injuries will reduce their final score." 

Fleur Delacour stepped up to the entrance of the dragon pen as Bagman continued, "Our first contestant will be the lovely Miss Delacour from Beauxbaton. She will face our own Welsh Green Dragon!" On cue, the crowd cheered. "Without further delay, let the tournament begin!" 

When the lovely Delacour faced the stands and gave a curtsy, Ron flushed in pleasure. He knew that some people wanted the Welsh Green to give her a run, but he cheered for her without reservation. She stepped into the arena, and the time started. 

The dragon was still facing the stands. Her feet braced as she howled at the noisy smelly masses. Fleur took advantage of her distraction. She swirled her wand in an intricate configuration. The dragon calmed. She stepped forward and repeated her charm. The Green blinked her eyes heavily. With one more dance of her wand, the Welsh curled in on herself and dozed off. 

The beautiful girl remained cautious as she approached the nest. Her wand was raised to repeat her charm. Instead, the dragon gave a loud snore. The crowd laughed, but Ron noticed smoke and a puff of fire escape with the noise. 

She approached the nest and levitated the golden egg from the nest. Ron held his breath. She turned her back to the sleeping dragon. The Green curled around her nest. 

Fleur was only a few steps from the exit when the dragon released a prodigious snore. Fire blazed across the space and caught her blue uniform skirt. The crowd gasped, but she doused the flame with a blast of water from her wand and left the ring. 

Ron ignored the commentary from the stands as the handlers began to clear the ring. He leaned across his sister to ask, "How long do you figure it'll take to clean the space properly, Mum?" 

"Probably an hour to do a proper job." She glanced at Neville. "My Charlie says the dragons can get very touchy about strange smells near their nests. That's why each dragon is assigned their own team of handlers." 

"We brought pumpkin juice and biscuits from the kitchen for just such occasions." Fred grinned at the severe looking Longbottom matron. "Care for a pumpkin juice, Madame Longbottom?" 

To his surprise, she accepted. They began to pass around snacks, preparing for a long break to the next contestant. Ron was only on his second biscuit when the a team of dragon handlers began placing a clutch of eggs into the stone nest. They were still working when four dragon tamers danced out a Swedish Short Snout and moved as one toward the arena. 

Hermione turned to them. "Mrs. Weasley, is there any way to clean a space of that many smells so quickly?" 

His mum frowned worriedly. "Not one that I know of. Seems they're taking a dangerous short cut with this." She seemed to have forgotten her irritation with Hermione. "Do you know when Harry will go, dear?" 

"Last." She met his eyes. "Harry's drawn the last dragon." 

The Swedish Short Snout paced the ring before her eggs, obviously agitated. Her silvery scales glimmered in the sunlight. Cedric entered the ring. Ron was struck by how small he looked compared to his adversary. _Cedric's a full head taller than me, and he looks like a firstie next to that dragon. This is all madness._

Cedric surveyed the ring from the edge and raised his wand. Ron felt a breeze hit his face just as the boulder furthest from the dragon transformed into a Great Dane. The silver beauty wheeled on her back legs in pursuit of prey. 

Cedric broke into a run toward the nest. He lifted the golden egg from amongst the clutch just as his adversary turned back. Flame erupted from her snout. He dove behind a boulder. She charged toward her nest. 

He ran the last few feet to the exit. Once he cleared the space, the crowd cheered. The dragon turned back to the Great Dane and blasted it to ash. 

Hermione refused the next offer of snacks. Neville turned to her. "Are you all right?" 

"No," she choked out. "My best friend is being forced to participate in this blood sport. I'm very not all right." He caught her hand in comfort, and Ron felt his own serving of sandwich turn to dust in his mouth. 

The handlers for the Chinese Fireball struggled to maintain their control. She balked at the entrance to the arena. The rear handler shot a hex at her hindquarters. She kicked out a front paw. The tamer she caught went flying into the rock face. He lay still as she prowled the pen. 

As the other handlers levitated their colleague from the space, Ron recognized Charlie's red head on the announcer's stage. His brother gesticulated in anger. When Ginny grasped his forearm, he welcomed the grounding pain of her nails digging in. 

The crowd held its breath as Victor Krum approached. He should have looked impressive. Instead, he only looked small and determined. Ron heard Hermione murmuring facts to Neville. It was a tick that he knew and, after three years of friendship, found comforting. "Victor's mum is a noted arithmancer. She predicted the creature challenge of the first task. He said she calculated that it would be either dragons or manticores. He was kind enough to..." She trailed off when he entered the ring. 

Krum took a dueler's stance. He slung a flurry of yellow spells at the Fireball. His lightning casts missed the dragon. She reacted with rage at the danger. He deflected her bellow of fire with a powerful shield. 

When she drew breath, he cast again. This time, his yellow spell struck her. The dragon's eyes began to swell. He ran to the nest, caught the golden egg in his arms and rolled away. He was looking toward the arch when she slammed into the rock wall. 

A crack formed from ground to top. Victor ran forward. He vaulted over her nest, and flung himself at the exit. The dragon gave chase. Someone screamed when she crushed her own eggs. 

Abandoning her prey, she threw herself to the ground next to her nest. A keening pierced their ears, and she nosed at the shards of broken eggs. Victor cleared the archway with his prize, but the crowd was silent. The dragon wailed fire. 

The dragon teams were solemn as they cleared the nest. A paunchy man stood on the announcer's stand arguing with Bagman, but he got nowhere. _The show must go, after all. No matter the cost,_ Ron thought bitterly. The crowd buzzed with low conversation, but the picnic mood had died with the infant dragons. 

Ron's blood froze in his veins when a Hungarian Horntail stomped toward the pen. The handlers gave up on entrancement halfway to the ring. Instead, they used shields to contain her as she stormed toward her eggs. 

The Horntail inspected her nest, and her nostrils flared. She collected her babies in her mouth. Defensively, she carried her cargo to the curve in the wall. Without letting go, she scratched a hollow into the dirt. She set her eggs gently into the fresh nest and blew a red flame onto them. 

Ginny leaned to him as she walked over to the abandoned nest. "Is it the smell?" 

"Yeah," he answered. The dragon blasted blue fire into the stone hollow. "The other dragons were bad enough, but the smell of broken eggs really set her off." 

She moved to the space where the fallen handler had lain. Another blast of flame obliterated the offending odors there too. The crowd almost overlooked Harry's approach as they stared in awe at the enraged mother. 

"He looks so small," his mother whimpered. Ron couldn't bring himself to agree. 

Instead of Bagman's announcement, he heard only the roar of his blood in his ears. Harry stepped into the ring but made no move toward the dragon. He waved his wand, but otherwise remained still. 

The crowd gave a collective gasp when Harry's Firebolt weaved past the tents and hovered before him. He grasped the broom and mounted. The Horntail ignored him in favor of sniffing the crack in the stone wall left by the Chinese Fireball. He carefully circled around the boundary of the arena. As he got closer to the nest, Ron felt the breeze that had been in his face shift to blow into his ears. "Bloody hell, the wind's changed!" His own voice startled him. 

The Horntail swung her head toward Harry. Her nostrils flared. She roared in rage. Instead of flying away, he zoomed straight to her nest. 

She charged, not at the nest, but the wall beside it. The rock outcropping smashed and rained down. The debris miraculously missed the nest, but it obscured Harry's position. The empty Firebolt flew free. 

Ginny screamed as the dust cleared. Harry lay still next to the hollow of dragon eggs. 

Chills undulated over his body. Slowly, the dragon approached. She kicked a shard of cliff face. It struck him in the leg, but he remained motionless. 

She swung her head from side to side, but no other threats approached. She slunk closer and eyed her nest. Harry was between her and her eggs. She slammed her front paws onto the ground. Her roar reverberated through his bones. 

When Harry still did not move, she finally stepped the rest of the way. Ron desperately wanted to hide his eyes as the dragon loomed over his small form. She reared back and drew a loud breath. 

Suddenly, Harry rolled to his feet and dashed directly beneath her. Flames boiled the ground where he had been. He dodged around her back feet and ran for the gate. 

The dragon wielded her tail like a club, but it slammed into the rock face and caught into the crack. Her prey fled waving his little stick. She crashed her body into the wall in her rage. 

Even as he sprinted, Harry's broom soared into position before him. He dove to grab it. Clutching it sideways, he wrapped his legs around it. The dragon pulled her tail free of the stones. Harry sailed through the gate an instant before the horntail crushed it. 

As the stands erupted in cheers, Ron staggered to his feet. He ripped his hand from his sister's and stumbled down the stairs. On the ground below the crowds, he clutched at a brace and gulped deep breaths. Images from the task played back in nightmarish detail. 

Unable to hold back, his stomach clenched and his muscles seized. His meals and snacks burned their way back up his throat and ejected onto the ground at his feet with a wet splat. He gagged on the smell until a breeze whisked through the stands to blow it away. 

He could feel the wind drying the sweat from his brow and the tears from his cheeks. Focusing on that, he wrestled back the fear and nausea. _I've got to find Harry!_ He vanished the mess at his feet and dashed in the direction of the broom shed. 

Luck traveled with him for once, and Ron avoided anyone else on his way. He hid in the shadows while other spectators passed in the distance. Just as he started to fear that Harry had slunk past him, he spied that familiar silouhette. 

He rushed to catch up and hollered, "Harry!" 

His friend froze and slowly faced him. When he said nothing, Ron sucked in a breath. For once, his mind blanked. With no idea what to say, his mouth flopped open and closed. _Please mate! Help me! I've no clue how to say what I need to._

The silence dragged between them. Suddenly, Ron rang out, "I reckon someone's trying to do you in mate!" He cringed at his own words. _Useless! That's not what you meant to say!_

Instead of replying, Harry scrutinized him. His soul was laid bare beneath those green eyes. 

As the time dragged on, his chest tightened. He choked on his own spit trying not to say anything else. _Shut it, Ron. You'll only make things worse!_

Finally, Harry freed him with a shrug. "Yeah, I reckon they are." 

His muscles went lax with relief. Tears still stung his eyes. No other words would come to save him. Finally, Harry said, "I think the twins were going to nick some food from the kitchen. Don't know about you, but I couldn't get any food down at lunch." He turned to head back to castle. Ron followed swiping at his wet cheeks and breathing deeply in relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No poem link this time. For once, I was happy with my working title.
> 
> I'm a little nervous about this chapter, but I hope y'all enjoy it.


	21. Balancing the Edge of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter's lies are causing pain all around.

A two day old and magically repaired copy of the Daily Prophet was crushed into the bottom of Daphne's bag. It bore the scars of her rage. _At least Hermione checked that packet of bubotuber pus before she touched it._ She seethed thinking of that vile headline. 

**Boy-Who-Lived Betrayed During Battle for Life**

The text that went with it was part of the reason she had not seen her girlfriend in several days. The Gryffindors, faced with attacks on their own, had rallied around her. She was even accompanied to the loo after a sixth year Slytherin hexed her in the back. _I nearly sent the bitch into Lake as she bragged about showing the 'little mudblood the folly of muddying proper pureblood stock.' Inbred Cow! Pity I don't dare tell her why she is the new favorite target of the Weasley twins._ With an internal shake, she forced herself back to the present.

Tracey read silently beside her as Daphne considered her own blank parchment. She reached to dip her quill tip into her ink, but Tracey began reading aloud. 

"Ms. Skeeter proves so enamored with her own inuendo that she has failed utterly to investigate the irregularities surrounding the selection process, disregards the blatant flouting of rules against school officials assisting their champions, and ignores the demise of 3 endangered Chinese Fireball infants and a dragon hander. Instead of the righteously indignant investigator from the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup, she has approached this event as a lovesick teenager. Her entire coverage of this event resembles a simpering melodrama that would find no publishing house. 

Her recent coverage of the first task was so abysmal that even Teen Witch Weekly provided a more complete accounting of the champions' performance. She expended twice as many lines speculating on the romantic relationships of a few fourth years as she did recounting the thrilling events of the task itself. She failed utterly to provide the scores of Ms. Delacour, a fact that was taken as an insult by the French delegation to the ICW. 

Ms. Skeeter has squandered our exclusive coverage privilege and made a laughing stock of The Daily Prophet. Indeed, she has made a laughing stock of the whole of Wizarding Britain. I must assume by her continued presence that you are unaware of the international impact to our reputation. Therefore, I have included several editorials and articles from La Tribune du Socier, Duma Mag’osnitsi, Bayerischer Kurier, and Trud for your review. 

Please route your reply to my office at Arbour Green Publishing. 

Regards, 

D Greengrass 

Heir to the House of Greengrass 

Tracey rested the parchment on the table in stunned silence. "That... was... Goddess Daphne, are you sure that you want to paint such a large target on yourself?" 

Daphne drew a breath as a shadow fell across their table. Hermione spoke up. "I've been repeatedly assured over the past few days that anyone who's anyone will find themselves pricked by Ms. Skeeter's poison quill eventually." 

She smothered a laugh at Tracey's exaggerated jump and exclamation. "Oh! When did you get here?" 

With a lovely smile, their newcomer settled her bag beside the table. "I just walked up. Did you write a letter to The Daily Prophet Editor?" 

Taking the question as her's, Daphne nodded. "Father was going to do it himself, but I'm working to become more involve in our publishing ventures as my first foray into the family business. He allowed me the privilege." She glanced down at the parchment. "It was... cathartic." 

Hermione laughed. "I would imagine so. I would likely find it good therapy as well, until I realized that my voice would hold no sway." She glanced back and forth between them. "Are you both still interested in working on the Runes project together?" 

_Oh sweet, your voice will carry influence one day... I don't doubt it._ Outwardly,Daphne waved her hand toward an empty seat. "Of course. Though we are astonished to see you without your guardian Gryffindors." 

Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down. "They have been a bit overprotective ever since Skeeter's latest lurid piece." She paused in thought. "Or should I say, ever since the hexes and howlers that accompanied it." 

Tracey jumped in, "It's all absurd. That woman cares more about our romantic prospects than we do." 

"She certainly reads more into every movement and flicker of a group of teens than I would ever expect of an adult." Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "Though I do wonder how she knew that Neville let me crush his hand during Harry's turn at the task. Madame Longbottom had to heal the damage I did. They were both very kind, but I felt terrible about it. Then that article came out. ... _l_ _ace_ _d fingers with the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House!_ " She scoffed. 

"Does your attendance today mean that it has all died down?" Daphne asked hopefully. 

She shook her head. "No one seems to think so." She frowned as she set out her parchment and texts. "I didn't escape today without effort. I had to bribe Harry and the twins to distract the rest of the boys with a promise of trying out the Dragon Practice. Even then, it was a close call. Once Ron found out who I was meeting for a study session, he insisted that I shouldn't be left unattended." 

"And yet here you are?" She inquired with an arched brow. "Should we expect your guards to descend and reclaim you?" 

Hermione laughed. "Thankfully not. They were determined to take turns with the course, and Ginny refused to miss an opportunity to shoot fire spells at her brothers. Once Neville vouched for your character, Ron gave in with only a few grumbles about the concept of Slytherin honor." 

Tracey creased her brow in thought. "Hermione, do all the Gryffindors take this whole house rivalry so seriously?" 

"No," she replied. "For Ron, being a Gryffindor is part of being a Weasley. He takes insults to our house the same way he would an insult to his family." She considered her next words. "Which is made worse by his inability to slow his mouth so his mind can catch up." 

Daphne chuckled. "That seems to be a common problem among boys our age." 

The girls laughed loudly and got a warning glare from Madam Pince. They sobered enough to focus and began brainstorming for their project. 

"What about a runic scheme of disillusionment charms embroidered into our robes?" Hermione dutifully noted down the idea. 

From the other side of the table, Daphne could see that she had labeled three columns: Idea; Pro; and Con. _I think your orderly mind is among my many favorite things about you._ The words went unsaid, of course. Like every day since before the trial, they had no privacy to talk. The thought sparked her own idea, "How about communication boxes? My father and mother used to have a set for exchanging letters." 

Tracey elbowed her teasingly. "I can only imagine how we would decide who to give them to at the end of the project. Surely we would all find a good use for something like that." 

Daphne's cheeks burned at her friend's unsubtle comment and Hermione's sharp look of inquiry. "Hush, Tracey. The whole library can hear you." She chided her friend, pointedly looking around the room at the other tables. 

She looked back at her regretfully. "Sorry, Daph." To Hermione, she dismissed her own words. "Don't mind me. I get too caught up in my own humor." 

"Tracey, most of my friends are boys. You, on your worst day, would seem like them on their best behavior." The two girls smiled in budding friendship. Daphne gave an inward sigh of relief. It would not do for her two favorite people to conflict. 

They fell into a contemplative silence. Hermione hesitated, her quill over the parchment. "This may be too complex for us just yet, but Mrs. Weasley has a clock in her home that lists each family member and their status. It has everything from Home, Work, In Transit and all the way to Mortal Peril. It's absolutely fascinating." 

Tracey fidgeted with her bracelet in discomfort and said nothing. It would fall to her to explain. Solemnly, she whispered, "Those family clocks take more than rune craft. It requires a combination of runes, family magic, and ritual to create a new one or even update it to add a family member. Most families won't bother with them unless it's a time of war or plague." Her heart clenched in pity for this near stranger. "I suppose, after losing her whole family in the last war, that for her the war never truly ended." 

Hermione blinked back tears. "Thank you for telling me. I would have felt terrible asking her for an explanation of something so personal." 

She ached to reach out and hold her slim hand. Before she could do something so foolish, Tracey slipped her bracelet off and set it before them. "What if we did something like this?" She continued before they could ask, "It's a passive runic series that generates a whole body warming charm anytime I cover it with my hands." 

She flickered a frown in confusion. "Why not just cast a warming charm?" 

Hermione smiled gently. "I can see how it would be useful for an underage magical. I can't do magic outside of school, but passive magic like that would function more like summoning the Knight Bus. It's perfectly legal." 

Daphne shrugged. "Well, it would make a good project. Would we want to select a different purpose? Since we already have the answers to that puzzle before us?" 

"What about your reveling charm?" Hermione's natural enthusiasm returned. "That way we wouldn't need to draw our wand to cast it?" 

Her eyes widened at the potential. "I think that's a brilliant idea!" 

Tracey drew up her blank parchment and began sketching. "We'll need a way for it to change colors with the results of the charm, and it should be either a bracelet or a ring so that the wearer can subtly touch whatever they need to test." 

Hermione giggled at that. "It'll be a truly magical mood ring." 

"A what?" It was not often that Daphne so confused. When Tracey laughed also, she felt left out. "What are you talking about?" 

Hermione smiled widely as she explained. "A mood ring is this silly muggle ring with a crystal that changes color when you wear it. It only reacts to temperature, but I love the idea of something that gives me the mood... or intention, I suppose... of something I bump against it." 

Tracey's eyes widened in delight. "Yes, and if we design it right, it would easily pass off as a muggle novelty item." 

Her companions began enthusiastically planning for their magical mood ring, but Daphne fell back into her earlier thoughts. _This project will be a great end of term grade for us, but I'm still not sure how to address the larger issue of the tournament. Father wants me to prove to the board that I'm ready to take over his seat. To do that, I need an idea that bolsters our prestige and improves the international view of working with a British publishing house. Having our contract fall through on that series of German Auror novels left a gap in our catalog._

She gave their project half her attention and made a few suggestions for their first prototype, but her heart wasn't in the work. _Ordinarily, I'd unpack the whole challenge for Hermione, and she would help me solve it._ She pressed her lips together in consideration. _Just because I don't have the privacy to tell her everything... Doesn't mean I can say nothing._ _Who says I can't get her thoughts on a solution?_ Decision made, she interrupted. "Hermione, how would muggles handle the problem with the Prophet and the Tournament?" 

She stunned the other girls into silence with her question, but they quickly recovered. Tracey grinned proudly at her while her lovely girl frowned in thought. "Well," she hummed to herself. "That's a harder question than you might think. For one thing, the muggle world would have announced this event well in advance to allow anticipation to build." 

Tracey picked up her narrative. "Very true, and they never would hold it in such an out of the way place." 

The muggle born and half blood girls shared a look of camaraderie. Hermione warmed to the speculation. "The goblet ceremony would have been widely attended. Probably televised..." 

_Televised?_ She drew breath but quickly remembered. _Moving pictures in a box._

"Oh!" Her best friend chimed in, "I'll bet there would have been bios of the champions in all the major newspapers." She snorted. "And an investigation into how someone added a fourth school." 

"Absolutely!" Hermione exclaimed. She tapped her quill tip on the table. "Even without that, there would have been collectibles for each candidate. Either buttons or trading cards or something..." 

Daphne gasped at the brilliance. "Chocolate Frog Cards!" 

Tracey nodded. "Yes exactly! And probably more things like it." 

"No, that's not what I mean." The girls eyed her quizzically. "Our publishing company prints the chocolate frog cards, and we own a stake in the confectioner. We can make that happen!" 

Hermione grinned at her. "It must be amazing to be able to print books." Her eyes shone. "I can only imagine the possibilities of owning a publishing company." 

"Ha!" Tracey slapped her hand against the table in excitement. "That's brilliant Hermione!" She grinned gleefully. "You could print the bios for the champions! Like the Prophet should have!" 

Daphne's mind whirled with the possibilities. "More than that, we could do a whole..." Suddenly she pulled out her wand and began casting. When she saw no evidence of eavesdropping, she gathered her belongings and shoved them into her bag. "I'm sorry. I need to go. I'll meet you both later, yeah?" 

It took all of her control not to rush from the library. She needed to write her father. _This will fill that gap in our catalog and prove to all of those stodgy old wizards that I'm worthy of my place at that table._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by To have without holding BY MARGE PIERCY  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57672/to-have-without-holding


	22. Waiting for Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry considers fame and friendship through conversations with Hermione and Daphne.

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. The ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the glorious sunrise in progress outside. Breakfast was sparsely attended that early so the Gryffindor table was pleasantly peaceful. Harry settled a few pieces of bacon next to his toast and fruit before pouring himself a cup of tea. Hermione sat quietly next to him, reading The Times. 

Hedwig landed next to his plate with two letters. Trusting her to protect him from malicious mail, he took them both and set them aside in favor of petting her silky feathers. She nipped his finger lightly in demand. He laughed at her. "Sure girl, how about a bit of bacon?" He tore a piece into small bites and hand fed them to her. 

Hermione gave a quiet sigh beside him and reached to pet Hedwig. The owl took the additional affection as though it were her due. He looked over to her, curious at her unusual mood. 

"I've missed this." She announced as though it explained anything. 

He glanced over at her in confusion. "Petting Hedwig?" 

"No!" She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Just the quiet time as the two of us. Ron's trying so hard to... I don't know... make up for his behavior, I guess, that I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic." She looked contrite at her own words. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that we're all friends again... I just... He's so determined not to miss out on anymore of our adventures, as he calls them, that he's smothering me." 

Harry absorbed her words quietly. _Is that what's been bothering me? I don't think so, but something doesn't feel right. Ever since we made up, it's as though something is nagging me to be on my guard._ He sighed. "It might be nice to get back to normal." 

She scoffed a little. "Given that normal for you is being in mortal peril, I doubt it!" 

He gave a surprised laugh. "That's not the normal I meant!" 

"I know,” she replied. 

Uncomfortable with introspection, Harry reached to pour himself more tea. "I've been thinking about our essay for Professor McGonagall. Cedric gave a good example of transfiguration for his strategy, but I don't know that it would have worked for my Horntail." 

Hermione shuddered at the memory. "It barely worked for him." 

"Granted." He nodded. "But I was thinking that I could have transfigured some of the falling rock instead of using a shield to keep it from hitting me and the nest. It would have been a few less bruises for Madame Pomphrey to heal if those rocks had been feathers or something. I also thought of transfiguring one of the boulders into a small manticore. Distract her with a threat instead of prey." 

"Hmm" She was plainly considering his strategy. "That's a good thought, but maybe not a manticore. That would be a dreadfully difficult one to do for us since it would require enlargement just to be realistic.... What about Jotunn? Still a threat to a nesting mother, and it wouldn't be abnormal for one to be only a few feet tall." 

"Brilliant!" He grinned at her. "I love that idea. We'll have to do some research and make sure that we can do the transformation before we polish the essay. I would hate to spend all that time only to start over." 

Hermione gave Hedwig her last bite of bacon and drained her tea. "Well, do you want to head over to the library?" 

While Hermione pulled the books listed from her research spell, Harry remembered his letters from breakfast. The first letter, from Remus, was short but welcome. 

> Dear Harry, 
> 
> Your letter reached me late as I had been traveling the week that you sent it. I received it the day of your first task. Please express my thanks to Hermione for encouraging you to write. I was uncertain that you would welcome contact from me. 
> 
> I was relieved and proud to hear about your performance despite my inability to provide you with suggestions. I met Arthur Weasley for lunch yesterday. He gave me a thorough recounting of the event and graciously let me read his letter from Charlie about the tactics. It almost made up for not being there in person. I am sorry that I missed it. 
> 
> All's well enough for me, I have taken a job helping an elderly squib couple around their small farm. They keep chickens and sell eggs to the inns and restaurants in Dufftown. They also run a greenhouse for a local potion shop. My Wolfsbane is part of my compensation which has been extremely generous of them. 
> 
> My employers were very interested to hear my stories of teaching at Hogwarts and have often peppered me with questions related to The Daily Prophet's articles. Please reassure Hermione that some members of our community are indignant on her behalf after Ms. Skeeter's libelous article smearing her character. 
> 
> I do hope to hear from you very soon. If you prefer to floo call, send me a time. I will be glad to hear your voice. Otherwise, please forward me any photos you are willing to share. I miss you and my former students very much. 
> 
> I feel deep regret that I held myself so distant from you while I had the privilege to be your Professor. I had attempted to follow the example that I recalled from Professor McGonagall, but I should have realized that our situation was very different from hers with James. (She was your father's godmother, in case you didn't know. She always insisted that she couldn't be seen showing favoritism. I think she was actually harder on him than she was on the rest of the Marauders.) 
> 
> Perhaps one day, you and I can make up for the time I allowed us to lose. Until then, please be diligent in your studies and preparations for the next task. 
> 
> I think of you often and remain your Uncle Moony. 
> 
> Remus J. Lupin 

Harry's emotions twisted with conflict. He was grateful to know that Remus was nearby. Dufftown was close enough that he could potentially meet him in Hogsmeade during the next visit. 

That relief dulled with the sad realization that he had missed out on getting to know someone that considered himself his Uncle. _Novel thing to have someone that wants to be related to me,_ he thought with bitter humor. 

He glanced down at his book bag and considered starting his reply. Instead, he glanced up for Hermione. He was unsurprised to find her attempting to carry a large stack of books back to their table. He jumped from his seat and relieved her of half the stack. 

She chuckled as they set them down. "Daphne insists that I do this the hard way. I'll be sure to tell her that I'm not the only one." Her smile faded into a sigh. "Whenever I actually get to see her next." 

_I hate to see her looking so glum._ Hoping for a distraction, Harry told her. "I got a letter back from Professor Lupin. He said to thank you for encouraging me to write." He passed her the parchment and pulled his other letter to him. 

He examined the official looking envelope and puzzled over the address. 

> Mr. Harry J. Potter 
> 
> Heir to House Potter 
> 
> Champion – 1994 Triwizard Tournament 
> 
> c/o Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 

_Heir to House Potter? Never seen anything address me like that before. I'll have to ask Hermione if she knows what that means._ Seeing that she was still reading over Remus's letter, he tore into the envelope. 

> Honored Greetings Mr. Potter, 
> 
> We, at Arbour Green Publishing, seek to mark the historic revival of the Triwizard's Tournament with a comprehensive compendium of the 1994 events. As a selected champion, we hope that you will cooperate with our efforts to provide the magical communities of the world with a proper record of this event. 
> 
> We understand that you may have been disappointed in the gaps and bias of other published coverage on this event. We share that disappointment. We hope that you will consider meeting with our representatives so that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. 
> 
> Our representatives, Editor D. Greengrass and Intern P. Clearwater, will be available to discuss the project and any concerns you have. Please seek them in the antechamber off the Hogwarts Entrance Hall before 12pm. Should you require a different appointment time, you may reply to this letter. 
> 
> Regards, 
> 
> Hector Herald 
> 
> Managing Editor 
> 
> Arbour Green Publishing 

He hunched his shoulders defensively, and his stiffness grabbed Hermione's attention. "Are you alright Harry?" 

"Not sure," he answered honestly. "Ever heard of Arbour Green Publishing?" 

"Yes, Daphne's family owns it." She held out a hand for the letter. 

As he passed it to her, he replied. "I guessed there was some connection. It says some relative of hers is an editor on a project about the Tournament." 

"Harry," she spoke slowly as she skimmed to the bottom of the note. "I don't think that's a relative." When he frowned at her, she continued. "She said that she's going to be stepping into a larger role in the family business. She's also frustrated with the coverage of the tournament. Says that it's impacted Wizarding Britain's reputation." 

He forced himself to relax. "It's reassuring to think that not everyone approves of Rita Skeeter's gossip and lies." 

"Are you going to go to the meeting?" She gently asked. 

"I don't want anything to do with it." He said flatly. Internally, he flinched in revulsion at the thought of more attention. 

She looked down at her hands, and his guts twisted at the realization that she disagreed. _Why does everyone have to push me to be what they want?_ His angry thought was followed by a guilty one. _This is Hermione, though. She'_ _s done so much to help me and all she's gotten in return is trouble._ He decided to try and explain his side. "All this attention has done so far is paint a target on me, and you by association. I don't want more of it. I know that Daphne's your friend, but I just want all this to go away." 

She covered his hand with hers. "I know that, and I absolutely understand it. But it can't hurt to go and hear more about the project." She paused. "Not just because it's Daphne, but also because you refusing to be a part of it may make people think that you approve of the coverage from The Prophet. You don't have to do anything about it, of course, but it might be good to know what else is coming. For once, we have a chance for some forewarning." 

Harry sighed, almost resigned to go along. "You could just ask her about it later?" 

Instead of rolling her eyes or any other gesture of good natured aggravation, she looked sad. "Don't know when I'll be able to do that." She glanced down at the hand she still had covering his. "I appreciate that our house has been so solidly supportive of me after Skeeter's latest assault on my reputation, but it's been nearly impossible to get time without someone shadowing me. Even this morning, Lavender threatened to come with me until I promised that you were meeting me in the common room." She heaved a sigh. "And now, with her taking on this project..." 

His guilt weighed heavily on him. _Ron's been trying to make up for his arsehole behavior by insisting on us doing everything together._ _I've been using Hermione as a buffer between me and Ron._ _And all she really wants is to see her girlfriend._ Harry began packing his things. "Which of these books do you want to check out?" 

"Harry?" She looked up, bewildered. 

He shrugged. "Can't hurt to find out more about the project, right?" 

She affirmed his decision with a glowing smile. 

They entered the antechamber in time to hear the last part of a question from Fleur Delacour. "...perhaps someone with more experience?" 

Fleur rested upon a small sofa while Madame Maxime stood behind her in support. Daphne faced them with her most poised expression. "I can understand your concern, Mademoiselle Delacour. My role in the project will be as liaison between the champions and Arbour Green. We take this project very seriously and have a team of five highly experienced professionals working to make it a success. Not including Miss Clearwater and myself, of course." 

"If I may, Mademoiselle," Penelope interjected. "Every member of the project team has been frustrated by the abysmal coverage of this historic event. People want to know more about the whole tournament, but they have been given gossip and nonsense instead. With the Compendium, we have a chance to correct that." She caught a rhythm while Daphne nodded in agreement. "We understand the detrimental impact The Prophet's coverage has had on the champions and schools. And we are ready to commit to a contract in which you review any piece of the publication that directly pertains to you." 

Harry felt surprised to relax a bit in the face of such professionalism. _Hopefully, they'll hold up to that commitment._ In a lull of the conversation, he thought of a question of his own. "What about equal coverage for each champion?" 

Daphne smiled wider at the question while Madame Maxime nodded, apparently glad to have that point raised. "The project team has outlined a structure that will ensure each champion has a bio of equal length, an overview of each task strategy and outcome, and a selection of three non-tournament related pieces." 

Fleur frowned in thought. "What is the intent behind the non-tournament pieces?" 

"Our hope is to provide a broader view of what makes each champion unique. The topics and final articles will be approved by each of you, but the team has already pulled together a list of potential items based on what we know of each of you," she glanced to Harry. "If he'll forgive being my example, we might elect to do a piece on Harry's ability to conjure a Patronus. I'm not certain how common it is in other places, but among Wizarding Britain, it's quite notable." 

He frowned a bit at the admiring looks he got from the two French women. "I'm not sure how long that article could be? Our professors will attest to it that I'm no great writer, though." 

Penelope picked up the narrative. "It was only an example, though it is one I like. If we did write that one, we would include history of the charm, notable uses and users... things that would help our readers understand why it's something that makes you a contender in this contest." 

He digested that for a moment, then nodded in grudging approval. _At least that's my own achievement, not some nonsense someone made up._

Madame Maxime spoke up. "Would the book focus solely on the champions?" 

Daphne leaned back against her own chair and open her hands wide. "We do intend to have sections devoted to the history of the Tournament itself and each school that was invited. For that piece, we would like to work closely with a school representative. It's important that we paint a picture for our readers." She shot Harry an apologetic glance. "We'll also include an in depth piece on the selection of a fourth candidate." 

Penelope leaned forward, radiating sincerity. "We do feel that it is important to include coverage on the controversies and mismanagements within the tournament. We will allow the candidates a chance to review the articles for any corrections before they are added to the book, of course. Especially any article that specifically discusses actions taken by or impacting a particular champion." 

Hermione chimed in with a question. "Do you mean cases like the poor Fireball?" 

Penelope nodded solemnly. "Yes, we already have a piece in editing on how the shortcuts taken by the tournament schedulers caused four deaths." After a breath of mournful silence, she continued. "We also have a few articles planned about things that make you all unique as a group of champions. Such as, we have three champions that play seeker position in Quidditch." 

"Four," Fleur corrected. "I play Quidditch as seeker for a small community league on holidays." 

Enthusiasm flared in him at that fact. "Really?" He leaned in. "Are there any differences in the community rules versus professional?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Faced with an absolute statistical miracle, you ask her about the rules her league plays? I will never understand you, Harry." 

Her consternation delighted him. "I have to keep you thinking somehow, Hermione!" 

The group laughed at their byplay before Madame Maxime brought the conversation back to the book. "I like this idea that you have. When would you expect to publish it?" 

"We hope to release the book with all current content before Yule." Daphne kept her tone professional even as her audience expressed shock at the speed. "Those first editions will be magically appended with new content as the second edition is released at the new year. Then additional releases and content will come with each task and tournament event." 

Cautiously, Harry asked one more question. "What if a champion doesn't sign on to the book?" 

Daphne looked serious. "In that case, we would be forced to include only publicly documented information about the champion." She pierced him with her blue eyes. "I hope that each champion will see the advantage of being able to tell their own story, instead of letting others tell the story that benefits them." 

A few hours later, Harry puttered around Hermione's study room. He felt a calm sense of satisfaction as he stacked the books that needed returned to the library. Their work on the transfiguration project was almost complete. They just needed to revise their draft essay. His gaze slid past the golden egg resting on the far end of the table, and he meandered over to the sitting area instead. 

Harry's thoughts wandered to the meeting with Daphne earlier. So many things about their talk surprised him. _I may not be sure about her project yet, but I trust that she'll respect my decision at least. Somehow that makes me more willing to consider it._ He settled his hand on the back of his favorite chair and considered asking Dobby for some tea and company. 

Before he could, the alert charm just outside of the classroom chimed. Harry cast a tempus and realized that time had gotten away from him. He quickly removed the privacy charms and opened the door. "Hello, Daphne!" He gestured broadly in invitation. "Thanks for coming." 

"Of course," she smiled warmly and cast her eyes around the room. "It's in my interest to make sure you have all the information you need to make a decision." 

As he closed the door and recast the charms, he remarked. "Pity I don't know how to build a rune scheme. It might be nice to embed the privacy charms into the door frame." 

She met his eyes, "You sound like Hermione with that idea." 

"I'll take that as a compliment," He replied. 

She nodded, "And well you should." She surveyed the whole space. "Where is she?" 

Harry was struck by how sad she sounded with that question. "Hermione went to help one of the third years with something. She should be back in a while, though." 

The news brightened her mood. "Well, that's good to know." 

"She misses you too," he confided. "I know the attention makes it harder for you two to find time to yourselves." 

She only nodded in response. 

Inspiration struck in that moment. "If you have time this evening, I can run interference. So that you two can have a little time together." 

Her eyes widened at his offer. "Would you really do that for us?" 

"You make Hermione happy. Seems like my job as a best friend to help that along." He shrugged, but his mouth stretched into a pleased smile. 

"Well," she marched over to the little sitting area. "How about we get your questions answered before my date, then?" 

He laughed at her enthusiasm and moved to join her. "Right to point then? All right." He leaned back in his own chair and tried to look relaxed. His effort failed when he shuffled his feet restlessly. 

Setting aside his hopes for Hermione, he dove in to the questions he knew he would need answered. "I hope you understand that I'm not doubting your integrity, but I've not had great experiences with adults. How do I know that all the things you're promising for this book won't get overridden by the people in charge?" 

"Harry, I understand your concern. Between those stupid Boy-Who-Lived books and Rita Skeeter's libelous garbage, you've not had good experience with being written about." She pressed her lips together. "Those children's books written about you, my father uses them as an example of everything not to do when writing about a real person." 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in surprise. 

"You do know that the Black family attempted to collect likeness dues for the use of Sirius Black?" She seemed skeptical even as she asked the question. 

"Daphne, assume that the first time I ever heard about those books was on the train to Hogwarts." He tried to inject humor into his comment. 

She arched her brows at that. "Well, the Head of House Black charged the Potter estate with all sorts of wrongdoing associated with the depiction of his grandson," she explained. "When no one on the Potter side responded, it sparked an investigation through Gringotts. When it was over, it came out that the entire series was unauthorized. The author disappeared with his share, but the publishing company paid so much in restitution that they went bankrupt." 

"I didn't know about any of that," he murmured. 

"It was largely overshadowed by a scandal at the Quidditch World Cup that same year, so I doubt many people remember the story." She shrugged. "It's a useful object lesson for anyone in publishing. Make sure you get written permission from all parties." 

He nodded, deep in thought. "That makes sense. I wonder why the books are still in print though." 

Daphne shook her head. "They aren't. The copies that exist are mostly second hand or spell duplicates. Once the publishing company went out of business, their protection spells failed." 

"I guess that's just one more thing that people assumed I already knew." He grumbled to himself. He tapped his finger tip to the arm of the chair and considered his companion. "I hate being famous." He screwed up his mouth in disgust. "I know that people think I'm just putting it on, acting humble, but I really do. Seems that other famous people are famous for something that they did, maybe that makes it better. I'm just famous for not dying... not dying when a lot of other people did." 

She gave a him a solemn look. "Harry, you're famous because a group of politicians needed a symbol of hope for people to rally around. Now, their symbol is growing up and they're terrified that he'll turn out to have actual thoughts of his own." She leaned toward him earnestly. "None of that is fair to you, but it is your reality just as becoming the head of my family is mine. You have a choice, though, just as I do." 

Every muscle in his body tensed with a desire to run from her message. He made himself stay in the conversation. "What choice?" 

"You can let other people mold you into what they think you ought to be. Or you can take hold of your own identify and turn it to suit your goals." She said it so simply that he wanted to scoff. 

_Maybe it is simple for her. She has a family that supports her and no one trying to do her in every bloody year._ Harry thought he should have resented her confidence. Instead, a kernel of admiration grew within him. "I don’t know how to do that." In a moment of complete honesty, he told her, "I don't know that I even know what my goals would be." 

She nodded in understanding. "There's nothing wrong with that. You have to figure them out for yourself or they're not really your goals." 

He fell into a contemplative silence. _What do I really want for myself? A real family? Is there a way that I can make that a goal? A goal that I can work towards?_ He let out a gusty sigh. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about with that one... Not sure I even know how to start or if I should. Seems easier to just keep my head down." 

"Harry, we both know that there are times to avoid conflict, but this is more than just your future at stake. It's your legacy and The Potter legacy..." She ran her fingers through her hair in a move he recognized in himself. "Just think about it. Think about what you really want and then, when other people want something of you, ask yourself if that’s going to get you closer to your goals. It's not as simple as that, I know, but it's a start." 

His mind whirled a bit, and he promised, "I'll think about it." When she opened her mouth to say more, he grasped for a way to distract her. "Now, how about we set up a little surprise for Hermione?" 

At the suggestion, she smiled. "What are you thinking?" 

Warming to the idea of doing something nice for his friend, he grinned back. "How about we set you up a date?" 

She eyed the room critically. "As cozy as this space is, I'm not sure how we'll would to transform it into something romantic." 

"Across from the park near my aunt and uncle's, there's a little bistro. At Valentine's, they would decorate all the tables and put up lights. Maybe we can do up something like it in the dueling area?" Warming to his vision, he called out. "Dobby, could you help me please?" 

"Dobby is glad to help Master Harry Potter, sir." The little elf gazed at him sincerely. "Please, sir, what can Dobby do?" 

"We want to surprise Hermione. Do you think you could find us a little table for two? Just to borrow?" He gave him a pleading look. 

"Oh!" Daphne spoke from behind him, "Perhaps a little cloth to cover it, and flowers?" 

"Dobby can do that. And Dobby can make set a tray with Missy Hermione's favorite treats!" 

"That's brilliant! Can you do the same for Daphne?" He grinned back at his unlikely friend. "I want them to have as many favorites as they can." 

Dobby hesitated for a moment before he bounced into action. 

Behind them, the little dueling space was transformed into an intimate dining area with floating blue flames encased in glass. The bistro table was a transfigured bedside stand. With a silvery cloth over top, it looked perfect. 

Their work table matched. The platter of cut fruit to the far side was complimented by a basket of fresh baked rolls. There was a tray of tea sandwiches artfully arranged, and a pretty tea service for two. Dobby had even managed to get a large bottle of chilled water with gas while Harry snuck off to borrow a wireless radio. 

Just as the little elf popped away to attend to his duties, Harry heard the alert charm on the door chime. He and Daphne shared a gleeful grin. "Perfect timing!" He glanced around. "I can keep out of sight until dinner, that way everyone will assume Hermione is with me." 

She gave an excited nod. "Thank you, Harry! So much." 

The door opened behind him. Hermione entered and smiled at both of them. "What a happy surprise! My two favorite people are here!" 

Daphne met her eyes over his shoulder, and Harry felt like an intruder despite his part in their conspiracy. _Time to get out of love's way, Harry. Let these two finally have some time together._

He smiled at them and walked toward the secret passage across the room. "I think Daphne's given me plenty think on today. How about I leave you two alone?" 

He creaked the door open and crouched through it. As it closed behind him, he heard a delighted gasp. "Oh! How lovely!" He walked away from the room with a bounce in his step. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Inspired by the last lines of A Poem about Being Yourself, Come What May by Jenifer Williamson.  
> https://healingbrave.com/blogs/all/poem-about-being-yourself 
> 
> No update Friday (5/8/2020). Chapter 23 will land on Monday, 5/11. 
> 
> To those in the USA, Happy Mother's Day.


	23. Dare to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Daphne have their date.

Tension melted from Hermione's shoulders as she basked in the simple joy of Daphne. Their days of separation had only made her appreciate how special being together could feel. _And we have loads to catch up on._

Daphne's unfiltered humor was a rare gift as she told of sitting with Slytherins at the first task. "Malfoy had been swearing for weeks that the tournament was being simplified for Harry, and that it was a pity he couldn't compete. When he saw the Welsh Green, he launched into a diatribe about how it would have been a perfect task for him. Then she roared. He startled so badly that he knocked Pansy from her seat." 

Hermione laughed at the image. "I can only imagine how he handled Harry's turn if that scared him." 

"I'm not sure," her girlfriend replied, suddenly serious. "I think I held my breath the entire time for that one. I know I couldn't tear my eyes from the arena." She blushed a little. "You probably think it's silly, given how confident I was when you were worried." 

She reached across the little table and laced their fingers together. "I understand. It's different to imagine those events and see them." 

"That sounds like experience talking." She murmured back. 

Hermione thought of crouching beside Harry during their rescue of Sirius last year and contrasted it with hearing about the acromantulas from Ron the year before. She shook her head to clear the images, both real and imagined. "It is, but both can be awful when it's your best friend. Maybe we could talk about something else?" 

She squeezed her hand supportively and offered, "Alright, would you like to play a game? It's one Tracey and I used to play after she would visit her muggle Gran." 

Hermione looked around. "Do we need anything for it?" 

"It's not that sort of game," Daphne replied. "It's more questions about the differences between magical and non-magical life." 

"Ok," she smiled in anticipation. "Ask me one first?" 

"This one was always my favorite. What's one thing in the muggle world for which you haven't found a magical counterpart?" She sipped her sparkling water as she waited. 

"Oh!" She grinned in delight at the challenging question and let out her thoughts aloud. "That's difficult... there are a lot of things that have partial equivalents. Even a phone call would be a more convenient version of floo calling. I could say television I suppose, but Tracey probably already told you all about that." Daphne confirmed it with a nod. "Well that's no fun then... I never really watched much television anyway." She fell silent for a moment, then her eyes gleamed. "I have not found any magical equivalent to the personal computer." 

"What, in the name of Merlin, is a personal computer?" She enunciated the last two words carefully. Hermione grinned with glee at the challenge of describing the office machine that was her parents' latest hobby. 

Their question and answer game had ventured into more general discussion as they finished their afternoon tea. Discussions of muggle and magical solutions to practical problems had carried them back to Hogwarts and school. Hermione ventured another question. "There is something else I'm curious about." 

"What's that, love?" Daphne encouraged. 

"Why, at the beginning of the year, did they have us bring dress robes?" She knew she sounded skeptical and continued. "I thought that they would explain by now, but there's still been no formal announcement." 

Her blues widened in surprise. "Lavender didn't tell you?" She was already shaking her head as she continued. "Obviously not, or you wouldn't have asked." Daphne gave an uncertain smile. "Part of the old tradition of the Triwizard Tournament is a Yule Ball. It is odd that it's not been announced officially, but most of the students with connection to the board of governors insist that details will come out any day." 

"A Yule Ball?" The vision of a fairy tale night flickered through her mind for a fleeting instant. When she opened her eyes to Daphne's carefully composed expression, reality crashed back. "We won't be able to go together." 

At her sad statement, her lovely companion broke eye contact and stared at their still linked hands. "No," she agreed softly. 

Hermione let that word carry into silence as she longingly imagined a fairy tale dance with her love. She was too pragmatic to let her dream carry too far, though. "I would love to be at your side during the ball. I won't lie to either of us and say it's not disappointing. But we knew there would be sacrifices when we started this." She gazed at Daphne's even features. "I may wish it was different, but I would never give up what we have over some party." 

Daphne smile weakly. "Hermione, I... I wouldn't either. And I hate that the rest of the world has invaded our date." 

Hermione stood. With a wave of her wand, the music changed to something slow and wordless. She held out her hand in invitation. "Dance with me. The judgmental fools may be out there, but it's just us in here." 

Daphne gently took her hand, and they moved into a swaying embrace. _This may not change reality, but as long as we're in each other's arms, reality can wait._

The secret passage door clicked closed, and the girls sprang apart. Hermione tried to control her breathing and pressed her hand to her flushed face. A disembodied voice called from the far side of the room. "Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!" 

"Potter?" Daphne called abruptly. 

She brushed her messy hair back away from her face to see Daphne facing off suspiciously against a blank wall. She was on her guard with her wand drawn and pointing at nothing. "Harry, we can't see you." She almost told him to take off his cloak but didn't see how he could forget he was wearing it. 

"Really? Brilliant!" He sounded enthusiastic even as he ended his spell. "I didn't think my disillusionment would work so well!" He glanced around him curiously. "Maybe it's because I know this space well? It wasn't that effective earlier when I was trying to avoid Oliver." 

Daphne chuckled, obviously more comfortable now that she could see him. "I've not heard much about memory of a space impacting disillusionment, but maybe you improved your casting after you saw Wood? I think if I had to listen to him moan about missing the Quidditch season, I'd find a way to hide from him too." 

The three of them continued blushing as an awkward silence fell. Daphne wandered over to the work table and examined Harry's golden egg. Hermione was drawing a breath to ask him about his afternoon when a horrid screech rang out. 

Daphne thrust the offending noise away from her, but it helped no one. Hermione quickly cast a silencing spell on the egg, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. The blond looked over the offending object to censure Harry. "You might have warned me to not to open it!" 

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I didn't know it was going to do that." 

She caught a suspicion but tried to give him the benefit of her doubt. "Harry, did you not know that it opened?" 

He looked ashamed, and her suspicions were confirmed. "Bagman showed us that it did, I just..." He gave a gusty sigh and threw himself into one of the arm chairs in her sitting area. "I have plenty else to worry about, with the extra work for McGonagall and all the work for our normal classes. I hadn't tried the egg yet. I figured I would work on it over holidays while everyone's gone." 

Daphne's glanced to her for explanation, plainly baffled. She smirked to herself. _Clearly my dear doesn't deal closely with boys our age._ "Harry, there's going to be a ball held over Yule. The castle will likely be packed. You'll get no solitude to work unless you create it." 

"A ball?" He said it as though she had told him that there would be astronauts invading. 

"Yes, Harry!" She would regret getting impatient later, but he was being obtuse. "A ball, our formal dress robes were bound to be needed for something, after all." 

He blanched white. "I'm not going. I've got enough to worry about with that!" He gesticulated wildly toward the still silenced but open golden egg. 

Daphne gasped in shock and stepped toward him. The egg, outstretched in her hand, wobbled. "You can't just not go! You're a triwizard champion, the ball is part of the tradition! They're going to expect you there!" 

Hermione cringed inwardly. _This was a good way to convince Harry to avoid the whole thing._ "Harry, we can talk about the Yule ball later." She shot her girlfriend a warning look. "But we need to accept that holidays won't be a good time to study the egg and work on the task. There will be too many people here to focus on it exclusively." 

He mulishly glared at the open egg. "Don't know when anyone expects me to work on this bloody stuff." His attitude dared her to correct his language. 

Even though it bothered her, she resisted the urge. "Harry, I'll help you with the egg." She cast a pleading look at her girlfriend. "Daphne and I both will... but you're going to have to work on it sooner rather than last minute." She walked over and set a hand on his tense shoulder. "No one is saying it's fair, but it's your life and your magic. If you don't put a priority on it, who will?" 

She let the silence settle around them. When Daphne made to say something behind him, she shook her head. Nodding in trust, she stepped around the chair and set the egg on the little table. Daphne settled herself in the squishy chair without another word and waited. 

His muscles relaxed and her tension went along. She sat on the arm of Harry's chair, eyeing the egg with disgust. "The inside of it looks like mucus." 

Harry snorted out a laugh. "Between that and the shrieking, maybe I should have left it for the Horntail!" 

Instead of following along with their irreverent humor, Daphne leaned forward. One tap to the viscous innards caused a ripple across the entire center. With a moue of disgust, she wiped her finger on the hem of her robe. "It's cold." 

Hermione felt the attraction of a puzzle draw her to it. "The screeching has got to be part of the clue... perhaps a translation spell might shed some light on it?" 

He gave her a skeptical look. "If you can stand to listen to it while it translates..." 

"Well, then," she replied acerbically. "I'll work on translation spells, and you can fashion us some ear plugs." 

"All right," Daphne missed the sarcasm in her suggestion. "We'll meet back here tomorrow after breakfast?" 

"Mind if we plan for an hour before lunch?" At the combined weight of two female gazes, Harry squirmed a bit. "I've a floo call scheduled with Professor Lupin tonight. Since I'm going to wait until after the common room is emptied out, I'll likely be up late." 

Blond hair bobbed with a precise nod. "Well, Professor Lupin is brilliant. Perhaps he'll make short work of resolving this. After all," she gave a cunning smile. "He's not staff anymore." 

Hermione's stomach gurgled a complaint at how quickly she'd eaten. _With Ron's incessant questions and the twin's pranks, I don't know how anyone expects me to get a properly digested meal._ She placed a hand onto the library door handle and made to heave it open. Before she could feel the weight burden her muscles, a larger hand covered the space above hers and pulled. 

Her heart pattered in fright and aggravation at this sudden presumption. She breathlessly tried to cover over her startle. "Good evening Viktor." She preceded him into the yawning space. "How are you this evening?" 

"Hermione," his familiar voice eased her flicker of irritation. "I am most pleased to find you." 

She arched a brow and waited for him to explain his statement. In the face of her silence, he continued with a smile. "I had hoped to get your help with research and speak of other things. " He looked around the sparsely populated library. "Is there place we could speak privately?" 

She nodded once, "There's a small alcove toward the back of library, if that would work?" At his agreement, they walked together in silence. Hermione ignored the awed look of several of the students that they passed. _You'd think people at this school would be past this star-struck nonsense by now._

They stepped around Hermione's favorite table and into the shadowy nook. To her surprise, he promptly waved his wand in a complicated configuration over the space. When she arched her brows at him, he explained. "Grandfather told stories of Bulgarian Secret Police methods before communist government fell. He made me learn spells to combat common magical division surveillance." He followed his own wand tip as he finished casting. "I thought him paranoid when younger... now that I see Skeeter woman, I am glad of knowing." 

"You're comparing Rita Skeeter to the magical division of the secret police?" She wanted her voice to come out skeptical, but she found she only sounded curious. 

"Secret police would transfigure recording crystals into birds and bugs. People learned to look for any creature out of season and trap it." He shook his head. "Now I feel paranoid, but Skeeter woman knows things she shouldn't. I do not like it." 

Hermione surveyed their little alcove. "Are you satisfied with our privacy now?" 

"Dah," he nodded. "Grandfather will be pleased that I remember anti-surveillance spells." 

She leaned back against the fitted stone of the wall. "What were you hoping to discuss?" 

"Your friend Harry is clever wizard." He said it as a statement of fact, "But he is young. I offer, should I find solution to egg, I will share. Only expectation is, he do same." 

Hermione froze. Her mind whirled in conflict between the spirit of the rules and helping Harry. Viktor saw the conflict on her face and continued. "Rules do not say that contestants cannot cooperate. Contest is between wizard and trial." 

She eyed him through her lashes. "I see your perspective, but I'm not sure that I buy into it. However, it seems that it's really Harry that needs to agree to your arrangement." 

He nodded. "You will speak to him about offer?" 

"I will speak to him," she told him reluctantly. "Is that all you wanted to discuss?" 

"No," his voice got deeper, "is not all. You are... thoughtful and clever." He seemed to grasping for words. "I like you." 

Her face warmed at the comment, but she kept silent. 

"Are you interested in someone?" He asked the question quietly despite the privacy charms. 

"Viktor, I," she trailed off as her mind whirled in confusion. _Is a frizzy haired muggle born really someone an international celebrity would be interested in? Surely I'm misinterpreting this!_ She decided to follow her mother's advice and be honest with him. "I'm rather certain that I am misinterpreting your question, but... I have to say that I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with you." She froze, waiting for ridicule. 

Instead, he hesitantly replied, "You are with someone?" 

"I -" she knew better than to say yes. The truth of her relationship status was not a secret for her to share. She floundered for a truth she could tell him instead. "I enjoy your company, but... I am not seeking that sort of a relationship." She stared down at her own feet. "You are a wonderful person. I am sorry if that truth hurts you." 

"I also enjoy your company." He said it with a flat honesty that she admired. "You will go to Yule Ball with me?" 

Her breath froze in her chest, and she jerked her eyes to meet his. "Viktor," she started, fearing a language barrier had caused a misunderstanding, "I do not want to be romantically involved with you." 

"I understand," he told her simply. "I hope that you will understand my perspective." She held his gaze as he continued. "I would rather spend Yule Ball with friend than silly person that is only interested in fame. You can understand this?" 

It was difficult to answer because she could understand. No friend of Harry's could fail to appreciate a celebrity seeking someone that would not use them for their own ends. A small part of her wanted to agree to his invitation. _A date to Yule Ball with someone that I like and respect is no small thing._ Another part of her worried that Daphne would be hurt. After all, Viktor was the only person so far to drive a wedge between them. 

"Will you give me a few days to consider your invitation?" Internally she thought, _and for you to reconsider it?_ "I would like to make sure that we are both aligned in our goals so that our budding friendship is not hurt." 

"Dah," he told her with a nod. "I only ask that..." He seemed to hesitate. "I only ask that you not consider Skeeter woman or other fortune seekers as you give me answer." Her eyes widened at that provision. "I want to spend time with friend that is good company. Absurd gossip is of no help to my aim." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Please, give me fair chance." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by The Invitation.  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-invitation-by-oriah-mountain-dreamer


	24. Captain of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry seeks advice and gains a mentor.

Harry stepped quietly into the dark common room. He carefully surveyed the room and nodded to himself as he found it completely empty. His potions text and essay sat beneath the armchair closest to the fireplace. It had been a useful excuse to head back downstairs as his dorm mates began settling in for the night. 

Ignoring his belongings for the moment, he pulled a cushion over to the low fire. He got comfortable on the pad and waited for the fire to change. _Probably a good thing we made this arrangement. With everything that's gone on today, I don't know that I could slow my thoughts enough to sleep._ He found it hard to even choose which one thing to worry about.

Thoughts of the Tournament book muddled together with Daphne's perspective on goals. The very idea of taking control of his own life was both attractive and terrifying. One thing he learned early in life was that adults could be vicious. Even though some in the magical world were better, people like Severus Snape and Rita Skeeter had reinforced those painful lessons.

Before his thoughts devolved into awful memories, the fire turned green with a floo call. Professor Lupin's face formed in the flames eerily lit but warmly familiar. "Harry?" He called quietly.

"I'm here, Professor," he replied with an equally low voice.

The man chuckled. "I think you can call me Remus now. Afterall, I'm not your professor anymore."

He nodded at that. "I'll try, Remus." The familiar address felt odd on his tongue, but he continued. "Thanks for agreeing to call me. I really need to get some advice."

"I saw the letter you included from the publisher. Did you go to the meeting that he mentioned?" He was straight to the point with his question.

Harry smiled. "I went to that meeting and met with Daphne after to talk some more as well. I guess the contract, if I agree, would be binding. I just don't know how to make sure that it's really as fair to me as she says it would be."

"If you decide to do this, we'll find a solicitor to review the contract for you. More importantly to me, is why you feel so conflicted about the project. Tell me what you think is the worst that could happen if you agree." His voice was calming as he asked the question. 

Harry shuddered, "They could write vicious lies like the Prophet."

Remus frowned. "That's something we would use the contract to prevent. A magical contract isn't just a legal agreement like in the muggle world. Failure to adhere to the contract would cause the signatories to lose their magic. If structured correctly, the goblins would also seize assets on your behalf." His face pulled back for a moment and reappeared. "Sorry, Harry, I'm just taking a few notes. We'll want to have the contract reviewed by the Potter account manager at Gringotts rather than a normal wizarding solicitor. That will ensure that you get the most protection as this could impact the family assets."

"Why aren't they doing anything about the Daily Prophet nonsense then?" Indignation burned in his throat and bled into his voice. "Isn't there something they could do?"

"Unfortunately, Gringotts and your account manager don't have jurisdiction over libel cases. They would only be allowed to engage if you won a judgment in the Wizengamot, and your guardian would have to bring that suit." He turned away briefly. When he turned back, he asked, "Since we have a way to address that concern, what's the worst that could happen?"

"A bunch of people reading all about me? All the attention... the lost privacy..." He trailed off.

Remus's voice was kind. "Harry, I promised myself that, after last year, I would be completely honest with you. People are already reading about you, they're just reading Skeeter's self-serving lies instead of the honest truth. I know that you hate the attention, but it's unavoidable. Maybe it's time that we find a way to gain control of your narrative."

He sat in silence for a moment, trying to absorb Remus's words. In the background of his thoughts, the word "we" echoed. The prospect of family beckoned to him. "Daphne said something similar to me."

"Daphne Greengrass?" Remus asked, clarifying. "From your year?"

"Yeah, after the primary meeting, she met me in private to talk. She told me that I have a choice to keep being what other people want me to be, or set my own goals and make decisions with an eye to meeting them." As he summarized the conversation, her voice, kind but resolute, echoed in his mind.

"Miss Greengrass did strike me as a very intelligent lady. Seems that she has given you some good advice." He gave one his reserved smiles. "If you were to take her advice, what would your goals be? What do you want more than anything else?"

The question sent a hot knife of longing though his heart. He barely breathed out his answer. "A family, I want a family. A real one that loves me."

A green glowing tear tracked down the crags of Remus's face. His voice choked around his next words. "Oh, Harry. I think that's a beautiful and admirable goal. I hope that you will let me help you work towards it."

Harry's throat nearly closed around the lump that rose in it. "My first year, there was a mirror that showed your heart's desire. It was the first time I really saw my parents." He swallowed hard. "I know they're gone, but..."

"Your mum and dad..." He stopped for moment. "Your mum and dad are in our hearts forever, but family is more than loving parents. Prongs and Padfoot were as much brothers to me as my own blood... more so in some ways. If you want a family, you have the power to build one on the foundation of love that your mum and dad laid. In fact, I think that would be an amazing way to honor them."

He used one hand to wipe at the tickle on his face. To his surprise, it came away wet with tears. "Thank you, Remus, for everything." He scrubbed his hands down his face. "I think I can do this, and I think I want you and Padfoot to be a part of my family... if you're willing." He braced for rejection even as he finished forming the words.

The solemn man dashed his own tears away with one hand. "I'm more than willing, Harry. I'm honored!"

Joy flashed through Harry at this. He took several deep breathes and noticed that Remus also used the moment to collect himself. When they were both composed, he asked his next question. "So, I have a goal, one that's mine... Now what?"

Remus barked out a laugh. "Now we start breaking it into a achievable pieces so we can decide where to start!"

It was another hour before they declared themselves too exhausted to continue their work. With a promise that he would send over a copy of his notes and thoughts in a letter the next day, Remus pulled his face from the floo. The flames faded into a red smolder, and Harry stared into them thoughtfully for a few more moments before he collected his things and left the common room. 

At the top of the dorm stairs, Harry eyed the door to the boy's showers. The idea of steaming away his tears and headache appealed, but his exhaustion won out. He stumbled on the way to his bed. From the far side, Neville's voice called out sleepily. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, Nev. Sorry to wake you." He was grateful that his whisper disguised the still hoarse tone to his voice.

"No worries. I was just getting some water." The shadowy figure set a water glass on his bedside table. "Want me to tell the blokes to let you lie in tomorrow?"

"Please," he gave a weary smile at his kindness. He set his potion's text and essay on his own bedside table and crawled into bed. "Night Neville."

"Night, Harry."

He closed his eyes and let the sounds of rhythmic breathing and snores lull him to sleep.

The shower steamed away the grogginess from his lie in the next morning. True to Neville's word, the boys had left him to sleep in. He was relieved to feel clean, rested and resolute as he rushed down to Hermione's study room to meet her and Daphne.

For once, he skipped the secret passage and approached the nondescript door from the normal hall entrance. He tripped the alert charm deliberately. _I don't want to risk barging in during a snog... again..._

When he entered the room, he smirked to himself at the sight of the girls. They were sitting apart, but they each had mussed hair and flushed cheeks. "Good Morning!" He clicked the door and reset the privacy charms. "Have you both had a good morning?"

At his teasing tone, Hermione rolled her eyes. "We had a lovely morning you pest." She stood and cast a duplication spell on his favorite chair.

"Think we should ask Dobby if he can find us a few more chairs?" He asked as he made himself comfortable. "Perhaps a loveseat?" He grinned when both girls glared at him.

"I think we can worry with that after you tell us how your conversation with Professor Lupin went." His best friend sounded delightfully testy. 

Deciding not to exhaust his luck, he leaned back in his chair and got serious. "It went well. Remus helped me start to make some plans. We'll have to work some more on them, but he promised to send me notes and thoughts in his next letter."

Hermione leaned forward; her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "That's wonderful, Harry! Did he recommend a translation spell or was there another way to decode the egg?"

He blanched at the thought of the egg. "That's uh... not actually what we were working on last night." Before she could get too disappointed in him, he addressed Daphne. "He recommended that the project head for the book send a copy of the contract to the House Potter account manager at Gringotts for review. That way we can negotiate any changes in good faith."

"You're really thinking about it?" Daphne asked him, excited.

"I've thought a lot about what you said yesterday, actually." Looking to Hermione, he explained. "She and Remus both agree that I need to set my own goals and work toward them, rather than letting others use me for their ends. That's what Skeeter is doing, really. She using my fame to build her own readership and reputation. She doesn't care about any of us or the Tournament. She certainly doesn't care about the truth."

"Harry, I am impressed." Hermione gave him a smile that made him sit straighter with pride. "And, I agree with you prioritizing the decision about the book. With a Yule release, you'll need to be certain with time to complete any reviews and approvals if you agree."

"She's impressed and I'm grateful," the other girl asserted. "I know you hate the attention, but a complete participation from the champions will give our project the credibility it needs to be truly successful. Mr. Herald and Penelope are in Hogsmeade meeting the Diggorys. I'll send him a note requesting that he forward the contract over to Gringotts. Who's House Potter's account manager?"

"I don't know," he replied, feeling his ignorance keenly. "I had never heard anyone really refer to House Potter until the letter I got from Mr. Herald. I guess I thought we were just a normal family?"

"Harry," her blue eyes met his steadily, "House Potter can trace themselves back to some of the most Ancient and Noble Leaders of the Wizarding World. It's widely assumed that the only reason they were left out of the Sacred 28 was because the author was angry about a Potter rejecting his offer of marriage."

He hunched his shoulders. "What do I need to do so that we can get the contract to the right account manager at Gringotts?"

"Nothing to worry about," she assured him. "Mr. Herald will take care of it."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks." A quick levitation spell had the egg sitting on the table between them. "Remus and I made a deal," he explained. "While the contract is being reviewed, I'm to focus on prepping for the next task and keeping up with my school work."

"Well," Hermione nodded toward the egg. "I'm afraid my research last night didn't turn up anything terribly useful." She frowned unhappily. "All of the translation spells I found are customized for the family of languages you're translating. Even if we stumbled on the right one, it probably wouldn't work on the garbled playback."

"Then it probably won't help to put cotton in our ears and try to listen to it?" Even to his own ears, he sounded reluctant and disappointed.

Daphne shook her head. "I think I'd rather try a few other avenues before we try that. The noise that thing makes is horrendous."

He glared at the offending puzzle. "Maybe we need to figure out what language it is so that we can find a translation spell? How would we do that?"

"We could record it with a crystal and send it to a few researchers?" Hermione's proposal surprised him. "I can check the library for a list of linguists that might be qualified to help. Maybe find a magical code breaker in case it's not really a language?"

"That's a good idea!" He grinned at his friend. "Ron's brother is a curse breaker, he might recognize it." He considered the supplies. "Daphne, where should we order recording crystals?"

"I'll write my mother for a recommendation. We'll want professional level ones rather than the joke sorts they sell at Zonkos." She looked thoughtful. "With that as our plan, what do we need to do today?"

Harry's stomach took that moment to growl a reminder that he had slept through breakfast. He flushed a little in embarrassment as Hermione laughed at him. "What say we break for lunch? Then Harry and I can go to the library while you write those letters?"

As they reset the sitting area and tidied up the study room, Harry marveled at how much less tense he felt now that he had a plan and some help. He glanced at Hermione and Daphne sorting the books on the work table between library returns and ones for the shelf. _Maybe Remus is right and friends can become their own sort of family._ He followed the girls out the door with a contented smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Dreams by Kym Erickson.  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/dreams-12


	25. Ideas in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Yule Ball looms large for Harry and Hermione.

Hermoine adjusted her transfiguration book in her bag. _I really ought to save up for one of those expanded bags._ The noise and chatter in the room swelled as students readied to leave for lunch. Professor McGonagall finished her conversation with Parvati and drew their attention. In the silence that fell, Ron's stomach growled loudly.

"I will not keep you long from lunch, Mr. Weasley," she said tartly. She waited a beat for silence. "It is my pleasure to announce that, in keeping with The Triwizard Tournament tradition, we will be hosting a Yule Ball. Each of you were asked to bring dress robes as part of your school supplies. I recommend that you try them on quickly. The Hogwarts elves will be available in the common room on Saturday to make any alterations that might be necessary. The ball is open only to fourth year and up, but third year students can attend as a guest of an older student. That is all. You are dismissed for lunch."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron whiten and blanch at the announcement. He frantically tried to get Harry's attention. "Harry, mate! What are we going to do?! We'll have to have dates!" He sounded horrified by the prospect. His hysterics made her want to roll her eyes in disgust.

"We don't have to go, Ron," he said flatly. "So we don't have to have dates."

She bit back a sigh. _I'm not sure why, but he's so resistant to this ball._ Before she could enter their conversation, Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Mr. Potter, please stay so that I may have a word with you."

Dread flooded her body and left her cold. What new demands did the world have for her clearly miserable friend? She stepped closer to the doorway but lingered inside the classroom next to Ron. 

The professor glanced over at them, plainly considering whether or not to let them wait for Harry in earshot. Apparently deciding that it was unimportant, she fixed Harry with a solemn look. "Mr. Potter, your statement to Mr. Weasley was only partially true. For most of the student body, the Yule Ball is an opportunity and a privilege. However, you are a Triwizard Champion. As such, you will be required to open the ball along with your date and fellow champions."

Harry's jaw clenched and his back went ramrod straight. When he stayed silent, she recognized it as an effort to keep from earning a detention for his words. She sent the professor a pleading look. _Please don't make this worse._

She sighed. "Mr. Potter, I understand your frustration with this. You did not willingly enter yourself and being forced to participate is patently unfair. I am... proud of the grace with which you have handled everything thus far. And I regret adding to your burden with this news." She softened as she spoke but did not seem to expect a response. "Despite your aversion to this sort of attention, you will, at minimum need to enter the ball with your date, attend dinner at the champion's table, and open the dancing. After that point, your obligation to the tournament will be over."

He held himself unnaturally still and responded robotically. "Thank you for the explanation, Professor. Will that be all?"

She sighed. "Yes, Mr. Potter, that will be all." As he turned on his heel to walk away, her eyes followed him sadly. Hermione was reminded of Remus's letter and her role as his father's godmother. 

In the hall, Ron started toward the Great Hall, but Harry turned to go the opposite direction. He called after him. "Where you going mate? It's lunch time."

"You go ahead, I'm not hungry." He called without looking over his shoulder.

In concern, she gazed after him. Deciding quickly, she looked to Ron. "Go ahead down to lunch, we'll be along."

He reluctantly turned and walked toward the Great Hall. She scurried after Harry who had kept walking. Once she fell into step beside him, she asked, "Do you have a specific destination in mind or should we go to my study room?"

"I'm not good company right now, Hermione, and I don't want to take that out on you." His voice barely raised above a whisper.

"Then don't," she quipped. "Come on, I'm not too happy about this ball thing either. Let's go for a walk, maybe work off some energy."

Plainly surprised, he stopped to look at her. Quietly contemplating her face for a moment, he found whatever he was seeking. "Alright. Let's do that."

They walked in silence across the grounds. The Quidditch pitch was littered with boulder debris from various Gryffindor boys that had run the dragon practice in the week since the task. Hermione, lost in her own frustrated thoughts of balls and dates, picked up a small stone and threw it as hard as she could. 

Without a word to her, Harry took aim and cast a blasting curse at the small projectile. He missed the first and second time, but he blew it up a few seconds before it hit the ground. Without a word, she picked up another stone and threw it just as hard. This one he tracked and blasted on the second try.

After a few minutes of their impromptu game, he laughed. "That one I imagined as the rock you hit me in the head with during Sirius's rescue."

She barked out a surprised laugh of her own. "I did apologize for that."

He walked over to the first row of the stands and sat down. When he patted the spot next to him in invitation, she dropped onto it rolling her shoulders in a stretch. "I think I'm going to be a bit sore tomorrow."

"Yeah," he looked thoughtful. "Not a bad practice exercise though. All the spells in the world don't help if you can't hit your target."

She nodded at that. "Very true."

"I'm sorry I made you miss lunch." He sighed, "Guess I'm not a very good friend."

The tired defeat in his voice grated on her suddenly. "You're not the only one unhappy about all this you know." She winced when her words came out so sharp.

"Yeah?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Maybe I should take you as my date. Then we won't ruin anyone else's night."

Her anger drained out of her. "Do you really think it will be that bad?"

"I'm going to be stared at, at a formal event, where everyone else knows the rules and will pick apart everything I do." He leaned back and stared up at the dreary sky. "It's going to be horrible. And, knowing that, I have to find someone to suffer through it with me." He took up a mimicry of his own voice. "Hi, would you be willing to join me while I humiliate myself and you in front of the entire school, guests, media and ministry officials? In addition to be gawked at all night, you're guaranteed to be gossiped and lied about before and after. Shall I meet you in the Entrance Hall?"

_That... leaves me with so many questions..._ "Harry," she started slowly, "Why do you assume you're going to humiliate yourself?"

He looked incredulous. "Why would you assume I wouldn't?"

"Well, you're courteous, coordinated and handsome. I've not actually been on a date in public, but those qualities seem like a good start." She puzzled at his expression like she might her runes homework. 

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better." His tone told her that her effort failed.

"So, I've answered your question. Answer mine." She tried to keep on task. "Why do you assume that you're going to humiliate yourself? Break it down for me."

He gusted out a sigh. "I'm going to have to open the ball. I have no idea what that even means. From what I've heard from Neville, most wizards get etiquette lessons over holidays. I've never had them and the only thing I know about it is that it's all very formal and traditional. He's been studying this stuff for years and still complains about how much there is to still learn."

"I didn't think about that. I've heard the pureblood girls talk about lessons, but I've never paid attention to it." She shuddered in horror at the idea of humiliating herself and Viktor in front of everyone.

Getting his rhythm, Harry continued, oblivious to her own quandary. "That's just the beginning. Then we have to have a formal dinner. A formal dinner? Me? I've never even been to a restaurant!"

Her mind blanked in shock. "You've never been to a restaurant? In your life?"

He flushed with embarrassment. "My parents were in hiding my whole life with them, not that I would remember it if they had taken me out. And my Uncle Vernon always says it's bad enough he has to feed me at all, and he's not paying extra for it."

"Your uncle is an arsehole." She startled at her own words but felt no regret for them. 

"Yeah, he is at that." He waited quietly for a moment, but then continued. "And, I don't know how to dance, so there is not a single aspect of a bloody ball that I'm actually prepared for."

She thought of all the points that he had raised and applied them to herself. _Pureblood high society etiquette is as foreign to me as it is to Harry. I guess the dancing wouldn't be terrible, but my father always complains that I try to lead. And having all those eyes on me when I'm at the champions table, it makes my stomach churn to imagine it._ She leaned back against the stand above then, mirroring Harry's posture. 

They sat together, lost in their own thoughts, for a while before she shattered the peace. "Viktor Krum asked me to the ball."

"What?" He jolted upright. "When did this happen?"

"I mentioned the offer he made about sharing information on the egg." She continued when he nodded. "In that same conversation, he asked me if I was with someone. Of course I couldn't answer that! So I just told him that I wasn't interested in a romantic relationship with him." She paused. "Then he asked me to go the ball as friends."

He frowned in concern. "What did you say?"

"That I would give him answer in a few days. I know that I need to talk to Daphne, but I'm so nervous about it." She thought of the only argument they ever had. _I'm being ridiculous. This is the only thing that's ever really upset her, I should just decline. She never needs to know he asked._ She tested her thoughts out loud, "Maybe I should just tell him no. Daphne never needs to know that he even asked."

"Hermione, you know how gossip spreads around here. No matter what you decide to tell Krum, you need to talk to her." He said it softly but with confidence.

She leaned forward and looked down at hands. "I'm not used to you being the voice of reason, Harry."

He bumped her shoulder with his. "Don't get used to it! Who knows when it will happen again?"

She chuckled weakly at the joke, and they both sat back again. Her thoughts drifted like the clouds above them. The quiet settled her nerves, and a wild solution entered her mind. She examined it from all angles before she freed it. "What if you take Daphne to the ball?"

"Hermione?" He sat upright again and stared at her.

"I mean it." She said firmly. "The two of you get along. She's comfortable with all the pureblood high society etiquette that's foreign to us both. Not only can she teach you what you need to know before Yule, but she can keep you from committing any faux pas at the ball."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one that comes up with crazy ideas." He told her skeptically.

She glared at him. "What's so crazy about it?" She paused as a thought came up. "Unless, is there someone that you like? And want to ask?"

"I, umm..." He scrounged for a response and thought of Cho's good wishes. "Cho Chang is pretty and nice. She's a seeker so we'd at least have something to talk about."

She looked at him seriously. "She's with Cedric. They have been together since last year when he rescued her from one of the twin's pranks."

"Oh," he mumbled glumly next to her. He seemed to really consider her idea. "I think you should talk to Daphne. Once you've done that, I'll see if she's willing to go with me to the ball as friends. At least then it'll be in her best interest to teach me how not to embarrass either of us."

He cast a tempus and looked toward the castle. "If we head back now, we can get something to eat before Potions." Agreeing with his point, she rose and picked up her bag. They retraced their steps to the castle with nothing truly resolved but both in better spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No poetry for this one. It was one of the few times that my working title made me happy.


	26. Seeking Truth Within a Ruse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne ducks one invitation to Yule Ball and accepts another.

Daphne hurried from dinner despite Tracey's knowing looks. _She thinks I've got an assignation with my paramour. She isn't wrong, but she would still be quite shocked._ On her way from the Great Hall, she spied Hermione and Ron bickering over something. She rolled her eyes and continued out the door. 

_I don't think I could stand to argue so much with anyone, much less a friend._ She set that conundrum aside and started, with anticipation, for the far entrance of the secret passage for Hermione's study room. Halfway there, she caught a glimpse of Theo Nott out of the corner of her eye. 

Walking with purpose, she ducked into the nearest girl's loo. She nodded in acknowledgement to Cho Chang and continued around the small divider. Once assured of her privacy, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself. Frowning, she tried again. To her satisfaction, the second time granted her the rippling cold sensation that Harry had described. _Seems that I was right and motivation plays a part in effective casting._

Her test succeeded when she passed between Cho and the mirror without comment. It took only a moment for the other girl to step away from the sink and pull open the door. She ducked through and around Nott in the hall. As she walked away, she heard him ask, "Did you see Greengrass in there?" Smug and silent, she continued on her way. 

She slipped into Hermione's study room without further incident. Dobby scurried around tidying and arranging the additional furniture. She stood and watched for a moment, enjoying the rare chance to see perfect magical efficiency in action. 

He popped from one side of the room to the other in blinks, putting books back on the shelf. It was only when she spoke that Daphne saw the disheveled little elf in blue sitting on a stool. "Yous doing it wrong." 

He looked offended. "What you mean? Books go in order by names." 

"Second name," she told him flatly. "Books go in order by second name." 

"Is you sure?" He stared quizzically at the binding. "Why's wizards need so many names, anyway?" 

Daphne ended her disillusionment spell with a smile and joined the conversation. "Perhaps we just like the sound of them?" She offered with a laugh. 

They startled so badly that she felt guilty. Quickly, she told them, "Please forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt your work." 

"Wes meant to be done fore dinner was over." He eyed her with concern. "Missy Daphne did eats dinner?" 

"Yes, I promise I ate dinner." She hoped he could feel the swell of gratitude she sent him. "You're kind to worry for me. I was early to the Hall is all." 

The little elf in blue curled in on herself. "I shoulds go." 

She reflexively reached a hand towards her. "Please don't." Her visage told a tale of misery and depression that made Daphne's heart ache in empathy. Desperate for something to make the despondent elf feel better, she focused on the happiest feelings she could. "You fixed the stool? And found us a sofa? That's wonderful! Thank you so much!" 

She imagined that Winky's ears perked a bit at the gratitude. Dobby, on the other hand, bounced forward on his toes in glee. "Wes dug through the Come and Go room for ones that could be fixed." Giving Winky a meaningful look, he continued. "Winkys did good to find that one. All the magics on it faded so we could fix its." 

She examined the patched blue fabric and overstuffed cushions. "It's perfect. Thank you both very much." 

Hermione entered through the main door to the room. Delight bloomed on her lovely face as she saw the elves and the changes that they made. "You shelved my books!? And found a sofa?" She grinned as Dobby popped into her arms for a hug. "You're brilliant!" She looked to Winky, "You're both brilliant!" 

Suddenly, her arms grasped air as Dobby popped into a cleaning frenzy. Even sad little Winky seemed to feel the effects of Hermione's joy as her ashen skin took on a healthier glow. Amazed, Daphne watched as she gave both the witches a bashful half-smile. "Yous very kind to Winky." Her bulbous eyes filled with tears, and she popped away. 

Filled with pity, Hermione asked, "Oh, Dobby! Is there some way that we can help her?" 

He gave them both a serious look. "Yous is helping, Missy Hermione. Yous is both helping." He snapped his fingers and the rug straightened beneath their sitting area. "Dobby thanks you both." Without another word, he popped away. A tray of biscuits appeared on their little table with two cups of cold water. 

"House-elves are amazing, but that one is a class by himself," she told her girlfriend as she head for the comfortable looking new addition to their sitting area. 

Hermione laughed. "You have no idea!" At her questioning look, she demurred. "Ask Harry to tell you the story. It's really his to tell." 

She realized that her love was still across the room and held out a hand in invitation. "Aren't you going to join me?" 

She looked oddly nervous as she crossed the room. Daphne was on edge and watched her closely. "Are you alright?" 

Hermione sat close and rested her head on her shoulder. She brushed tickling curls from her nose and pulled her close. She puzzled as her girl replied, "You're too perceptive for my own good." 

She huffed a laugh. "You're transparent. You wouldn't last 10 minutes in the Slytherin Common Room!" 

"I guess it's a good thing I've never been, then." Her eyes lit up with inner laughter. Even though her humor seemed out of place, it reassured Daphne that whatever was bothering was not catastrophic. 

She pressed a kiss to the pulse point of her temple and enjoyed a whiff of vanilla shampoo. "Tell me what's bothering you?" 

She sighed and slipped her arm around her waist to pull her closer. "I've actually been trying to figure out how to talk to you about something that happened in the library on Saturday." 

She frowned at that. _What could have her worried for three days without talking to me?_ "I'm listening." 

"You were half right, about Viktor." She tensed at the sound of his name but kept silent so that Hermione could finish. "He approached me Saturday, after our date." She tightened her arm around Daphne's waist. "He did have something he wanted me to pass on to Harry, but he also asked me if I was seeing someone." 

From within their embrace, it never occurred to Daphne to feel insecure. "That's a difficult question for either of us to answer." 

A bushy curl tickled her ear as Hermione nodded. "Yes... I didn't really answer that part. I simply told him that I wanted to be only friends." She pulled her a little tighter. "And that's when he asked me to the Yule Ball." 

Daphne froze in shock. "Did he misunderstand you?" 

"I thought so, but no." She pulled away to look her in the eyes. "He said he would rather go to the ball with a friend than someone after his fame. I've been friends with Harry too long not to recognize that issue." 

She deliberately turned her hand palm up and laced her fingers through her girlfriend's. "What did you tell him, then?" 

Hermione stared down at their hands, avoiding her gaze. "I didn't know what to say, so I asked for time to give him answer." 

She pulled their hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Oddly, she felt calm and confident in a way that she could not have imagined a week before. "If you and I weren't together, what would you have said?" 

"Yes." She flinched a little after she said it. "Immediately. Not just because of him, but also because of the... validation, I suppose... the sense that someone that sought after would choose me?" She blew a stray curl from her face in disgust. "That makes me seem as bad as the fangirls he's avoiding." 

Warm fondness spread through her chest as she cupped her creamy cheek to draw her in for a kiss. "If you say yes, he'll be very lucky to have you at his side." 

Her words startled Hermione as much as they did her. "Daphne, love, I didn't tell you about this to convince you to let me go with him, but because I thought it was wrong to keep it from you." She blushed prettily. "And maybe to get your help on turning him down." 

She pulled Hermione back into her embrace so she could be comforted by her head nestled into her shoulder. "Sweet, no one is good enough for you, but, from everything I've learned about him with the compendium, he's honorable and intelligent. So long as he truly understands that you only would go as his friend, I think you should go." 

"Are you certain that it wouldn't bother you?" She sounded confused and vulnerable. 

She held her possessively closer. "I am certain that it will, but only because he can waltz you around the ballroom floor and I can't." She sighed. "That is not his fault, and I promise to try not to hate him for it." 

"Who will you go with?" Hermione whispered forlornly. 

She crinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't know. Theo Nott has been trying to ask me all day, but I have no desire to go to the ball with some fortune hungry brute." 

They shifted together to be closer as her sweet put her feet up to recline. "Is he really that bad? I barely know him." 

She nodded, "He bullies the boys in Astoria's year. He'd probably do the same to the girls, if he didn't know that I would make him regret it." 

"I can't understand why he would think you would go to the ball with him!" She sounded indignant on her behalf. 

"You're sweet," she pressed a kiss to her wild hair. "Refusing him without a clear reason will require some political maneuvering, especially with my father needing his father's support to defeat a bill before the Wizengamot." Before she could ask, she explained. "I don't know all the details, but it would raise a tax on Wolfsbane and other Werewolf specific treatments." 

She went stiff in her arms, obviously thinking of Professor Lupin. "That's horrible." 

"Yes," she agreed. "It's hard for me to put one night above all those people, but... he's just such an awful person! I don't want anyone to think that I approve of his behavior." 

"If you already had a date, would that eliminate the politics of the issue?" Hermione asked it as though she had a thought. 

Suspiciously, Daphne responded. "It would depend... What are you up to?" 

An hour later, Harry Potter was sitting across from them acting as though he hoped to talk her out of accepting him as her Yule date. "I know nothing about etiquette. I've never eaten at a formal event, I'm liable to dump pumpkin juice on your dress." 

She chuckled at him. "They won't serve pumpkin juice." 

He flung himself dramatically from his chair and began to pace. "You see! I didn't know that!" His hands flailed in the air. "This is a terrible idea!" 

"Harry," she said his name firmly, shaking her head at Hermione. "You told us that, when you talked to Professor Lupin, you set a goal... one of your own." 

He calmed and looked at her inquisitively. "Yeah, I don't understand what that has to do with me being a terrible date." 

She rolled her eyes. "Which gets you closer to that goal, going to ball with me and seeming like a well-mannered member of society, or refusing to take a date and looking like a spoiled child?" 

He dropped back into his chair like a marionette with cut strings. "Looking like a spoiled child isn't going to get me anywhere." He sounded tired, like he wasn't sure that avoiding it was worth the effort either. 

"Harry, what brought this on? Hermione asked him softly. "I thought you were feeling better about all this?" 

"I just..." He scrubbed his hands down his face. "I overheard some of the girls talking... about what they would want in a date." 

Daphne smirked at him. "Never take the posturing of a group of girls seriously. Especially if they're purebloods. I guarantee you that, had you marched up to them in that moment and asked if any of them would go to the ball with you they'd have fought over the privilege." 

He screwed up his face skeptically. "Are you sure? Because they specifically mentioned how they were too good for me." 

This time the Slytherin girl laughed out loud. "Oh Harry, if you're willing to practice with us, we can make you into the dream Yule Date! From the invitation all the way to being the dashing champion of the ball." 

"Practice? What sort?" He seemed genuinely curious.   
In a swell of glee at the prospect of making him over, Daphne moved to a clear space in the room. "Come here, Harry." He obediently stepped in front of her. She held her hand out and caught her robe in her opposite hand. "Take my hand in yours and bow over it." 

As she twisted her hand into the proper hold, he bent stiffly. "I feel silly." 

"Good," she told him acerbically. "That means you'll remember." 

He straightened and gave her a baleful look. Still holding his hand hostage, she drilled her gaze into his. "If you're greeting an older woman, such as Madame Longbottom, you would bow over her hand as she gave a slight curtsy." When he stayed still, she continued in satisfaction. "With a woman of your own age but not someone you're interested in romantically, you would kiss the air just above her knuckles." 

His brows creased in confusion and he bent over her hand. With an large gap between her hand and his lips, he puckered in an awkward kiss. "Like that?" 

She laughed lightly, "Only if I were Pansy Parkinson!" He jerked upright in surprise. "That sort of kiss would imply that I repulsed you, but you were too polite to admit it." 

"Oh, that's not right." He frowned at her. "I'll try again?" 

She nodded in permission, and he bowed over her hand. His kiss was close enough to the back of her hand that his breath tickled warmly. "Closer..." She held back a pleasurable shudder. "You'll want something in between those two for someone you're not interested in." 

He stood and dropped her hand. "Ok, so for someone that I am interested in, do I kiss the hand?" 

"Only if you're with them. Otherwise it would seem too forward." She smiled. "The one you just did would be good for that situation." 

He nodded in comprehension. "Maybe we can try it a few more times to make sure I've got it right?" 

The next day, dinner had barely started when Theo Nott glared a third year boy from the space at the table across from her. Dread twisted in her stomach. _I've managed to avoid you all day! You couldn't wait until tomorrow for this?_ To her relief, a paper crane fluttered over to her plate and alighted between it and her cup.   
She gave Nott a look that she hoped seemed apologetic as she lifted it and began to unfold it. Tracey, probably the only one that knew her habits well enough, realized that she recognized the sender and trusted them. _Fortunately, no one that knows my propensity for testing all messages would bring up the miss in front of mixed company._

The riddle, in Harry's terrible penmanship, was short and simple. 

> You'll find that in the dark of night, 
> 
> I am used to find the light. 
> 
> Seek me out with your gaze, 
> 
> And help my heart to clear it's haze. 

Ignoring Theo as though she had no clue why he had sat with them, her friend read it over her shoulder. "A riddle! How intriguing? What do you think it means?" 

Despite knowing the game, she felt a trickle of excitement. "I think it means that I should go up the astronomy tower." She looked at her best friend. "Would you like to go with me?" 

"I would love to!" She sounded eager. "Should we go now or do you want to eat first?" 

"I find my curiosity is not conducive to an appetite." She rose from the table and nodded politely to those that remained. "Good evening to you all." 

The tower floor shifted in the shadows of twilight. A lone telescope was set up to look out the window, but the angle was wrong for stargazing. "Do you think you're to look through it?" Tracey stepped forward.   
When she removed the cover, a folded triangle and a twinkling star charm drifted to the floor. She admired the little trinket for a moment, before pocketing it. Unfolding the note, she had to get her friend to cast a lumos to see the lettering. 

> A flower that rests in moonlight's glow 
> 
> Can radiant a beauty show 

She frowned at the verse, wondering silently if she should have been more involved in the planning for this part. "What does that mean?" She glanced out the window. "The moon isn't out yet." 

Tracey, ever a lover of astronomy, had absently leaned in to gaze at the view. She laughed. "Maybe no natural moon, but look." 

Obediently gazing through the telescope, she grinned in delight at the sight of a greenhouse bathed in artificial moonlight. Smiling absently, she murmured, "How did he do that?" 

Her friend giggled. "Never mind the how, let's go see what he left you!" 

The fake moonlight had attracted a few students around the greenhouse. She pushed past them all, leaving Tracey to explain gleefully that she was on a scavenger hunt. Inside, a moonflower rested in a place of honor on Professor Sprout's desk. 

By this point, even she was impressed by the amount of effort Harry and Hermione had gone to, especially with a day full of classes. When she and her friend stepped up to the moonflower, she saw that she had drawn an audience. "Lavender, what are you doing here? I thought you were at dinner when we left?" 

She laughed, "I could hardly miss such an intriguing little chase, my dear cousin." 

Even though she rolled her eyes, she was pleased. _I may know how this little chase ends, but it's nice to feel so treasured._ In front of the moonflower, a small moonstone charm rested on top of another note. 

> Where we honor those of note, 
> 
> I hope my status you will promote. 

"Where we honor those of note?" She looked between Lav and Tracey. "What do you think, the trophy room?' 

Nodding in agreement, they head off. 

By the time they had arrived, they had collected her sister and a few girls from her year. A part of her was contrite that so many people were pulled along their little ruse, but her pragmatic side reminded her that that was the point. _No one could dare suggest that I was Harry's second choice after this much effort. Theo won't even bother asking._

The trophy cases were wedged together to make the most of space. The room and its contents dated back over six hundred years. Some trophies were the size of the Goblet of Fire, but others would fit in the palm of her hand. She paused in thought. _Where would he hide my next note?_

The girls behind her began to murmur about how long it would take search all the trophies. Her solution came in thoughts of Harry. "Accio my note!" As an envelope flew into her hand, the younger girls chattered excitedly. 

A charm, this time a laurel wreath, fell into her hand. Her next clue was just as short. 

> Please turn triumph from my dread 
> 
> You'll find me where we break our bread. 

She grinned at the personal touch to this last rhyme. Looking around at her entourage, she announced. "Back to the hall ladies!" 

They all happily joined her quick jaunt back to the Great Hall. Dinner was still at its height when they entered, and the cluster of girls drew quite a few eyes. She scanned the room but didn't find her quarry. _What are you up to?_   
Everyone in the hall recognized the snowy owl that swooped down in front of her and dropped a small wooden box into her outstretched hands. At some point in the scavenger hunt, the romantic excitement of the event had invaded her. With anticipation, she opened the box. 

She gasped as an explosion of sparkles flew up and out. To her surprise, they coalesced into a couple waltzing on thin air. Harry stepped through them, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. She quickly slipped the box into the pocket of her robe so that she could greet him properly. 

Just as they practiced, he bowed over her offered hand and kissed her knuckles. When she rose from her curtsy, he asked, "Daphne Greengrass, will you grant me the privilege of escorting you to the Yule Ball?" 

Astoria's sigh was drowned out by Tracey's cry of, "I knew it!" 

Ignoring her friend and the rest of their audience, she simply replied, "Yes." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Looking For Eternal Love by Michaela Tatualla.  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/looking-for-eternal-love


	27. Small Voices Hurting Big Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter considers her next story.

Rita kept her head up and avoided eye contact with the receptionist at the Daily Prophet. The two of them had finished Hogwarts the same year, but she pretended to forget her name. _Talentless wretch used to have the nerve to suggest story ideas. Stupid of her to believe anyone would care what she thinks._

She swept through the center of the desks used by lesser reporters so that all of them would see her walk into her personal office. The envious looks from her so-called colleagues did little to sooth the acid anger seething within her. _How dare that muggle loving hack demand my presence as if he has any real authority._

She sneered at the wall she shared with the Prophet's editor. Normally the award case on that wall helped her remember how far she had come, but today she only saw the dust on even the newest of plaques. She turned to her desk, clear but for a single photo. 

The wizarding photo showed a couple in old fashioned wedding garb leaning forward for a kiss. Many visitors to her office mistook it for sentiment. During interviews, she encouraged that by giving the eternal bride and groom a soft look and simply saying, "My parents." People that fell for that were the most easily manipulated. 

After a few years as the Daily Prophet's star reporter, she no longer needed such contrivances to read people. Instead the photo remained as a reminder to her, _I am the only one that can save me because I'm the only one that will._

She deliberately waited a few more minutes before rising from her desk. She stepped around the nonentity that stood at her door about to knock. Ignoring her editor's closed door, she let herself into his office and sharply shut the door behind her. 

"You're late," he told her bluntly. When she responded only with a contemptuous look and silence, he dropped his gaze to the latest edition spread across his desk. 

Pleased to see that he remembered who was really in charge, she gracefully arranged herself in the chair across from him. "Are you enjoying my latest piece, Martin?" She asked coyly. 

He flipped the paper closed dramatically, and her latest headline showed. **Boy Who Lived to Finally Find Happiness?** She smiled smugly at the photo showing him and the wealthy heiress in profile at the moment he had kissed her hand. 

He punctured her glee quickly. "No, I'm not enjoying it Rita, and neither is the family of that dead dragon handler." She seethed at his nerve, but he continued. "You, the exclusive reporter on the Tournament story, are writing insipid stories about teenage romance to get in good with Arbour Green before your next book. While I, editor in chief of the Daily Prophet, am getting daily howlers from Romania and the Ministry because we relegated stories of their multiple lawsuits to the second page!" 

_Bastard!_ She yanked herself out of her chair and pushed her livid face into his. "You serve as editor of this paper at my pleasure! If you think that my coverage is too soft, maybe you'd like to see the piece I do on wizarding widowers that sleaze their way into muggle London. Perhaps your daughters would like to see for themselves if that little girl looks enough like them to start saving for Hogwarts?" 

He hissed back, "Dammit Rita, she wasn't mine! I hadn't seen her mother in months before she came up pregnant!" 

She laughed, delighted to see him rise to her bait. "And I'm sure the whole of Wizarding Britain will follow the story to its conclusion and see you fully exonerated of fathering a bastard half-breed." She trilled out another laugh in his face before she draped herself across her chair once more. "No one cares about the truth, Martin. Not really." She pretended to examine her glossy red nails while he sat back, ashen. "Now, unless you want your predilection for muggle slags to become public knowledge, you'll print what I give you. And you'll keep it on the front page. I don't care what howlers you get from Fudge about it." 

Without another word, she swung herself up from her chair and left him. _Stupid git won't dare cross me! As if anyone cares about dead dragons and lawsuits anyway!_ She ignored the rest of the staff as the angry rhythm of her heels echoed on the hard floor. She was already apparating back to Hogsmeade when the door to the Prophet slammed behind her. 

The Three Broomsticks was quiet as she marched up the stairs and to her private room. On the small writing desk next to the window, a half filled parchment sat waiting. She eyed her next article with loathing. _He dragged me in to berate me for my choice of writing topics?_ With a vindictive wave of her wand, a story on the Tournament's tragic impacts to the Romanian Dragon Preserve disintegrated into ash. 

She pulled out her notes on Albus Dumbledore and her nearly empty vial of Felix Felicis. _I'll have to get slimy Slughorn to make me some more, but it will be enough. I think I'll go find an article that will whet the appetite for my next book._ She emptied the vial into her mouth and slipped the window over her desk open slightly. With the ease of long practice, her view of the world transformed. She crawled over to the outside window sill and let the wind take her to Hogwarts. 

She gloried in the freedom of flight, but the chill made her grateful when the school came into view. Thinking of the usual timetables, she decided to curl around to the dismissing Care of Magical Creatures class. She alighted carefully on the scarf of a seventh year Ravenclaw and nestled into the warm folds. _This cold is enough to make even me reconsider Scotland in winter._

Oblivious to her passenger, the girl kept complaining to her friend. "I'd drop the class entirely if they'd let me sit for the NEWT without it. As it is, I have to keep attending and still keep up my independent study just so I can pass. It's exhausting!" 

"I know," her friend replied. "It wouldn't be so bad if it was the one class, but there's really only been two good DADA teachers the whole time I've been here." 

If a beetle could grin, she would have. _Imagine my luck, landing on such a great story._

"Yeah," her friend agreed. "And what does it say that the only two decent teachers we've had have been a werewolf and madman?" She pulled the door open to let them into the castle. "At least you didn't need NEWTs Potions. My mum had to tutor me every holiday just so I could get the OWL I needed, and Snape's no better with the smaller class." 

As the students continued to complain on their way to the library, Rita settled in for the ride. She organized the concept in her head and tried to decide on the angle that would best serve her narrative. Once in the library, she winged away from the girls and settled on a top shelf to observe and think. 

By the time she had her research plan and rough story outlined in her head, the library was filling up with study groups. Loathing filled her as she heard Hermione Granger talking to Neville Longbottom. _Little know-it-all should have been grateful for the way I complimented her in the first article I wrote on Potter. Instead she just complained about it. She'll learn her place, though._

The Longbottom boy was talking as they sat at a table near her. "I mean, the Tournament task was interesting, but surely they could have given us a partial Quidditch season for the year?" The bushy haired girl sighed wearily, but he kept talking. "I know you don't like Quidditch much, but for someone like Wood, it's a chance to get some notice before general tryouts."   
"I understand that, even if I think he's talented enough to succeed without it." She pulled out a parchment and potions textbook. "Now, I'll check your potions essay while you read over my Herbology assignment. Then we can start looking at the potion for the next class." 

He accepted the parchment she passed him. "Thanks Hermione, I really appreciate it. Professor Snape's instructions never make any sense to me." 

"Well, it's not fair that he yells at you when you try to ask questions either, but you're getting better despite him." She gave him an encouraging smile. 

_Hmmm,_ mentally drafting, Rita considered what she had heard. _Professor Snape, while qualified as a potions master, verbally abuses and intimidates his students. This is especially trying for the child of War Heroes, Frank and Alice Longbottom, as his teacher escaped conviction while his parents languish in St. Mungos._

She idly tapped a small front leg in a manner very unlike the average beetle. _I wonder if I can get a good quote on the DADA situation._ She carefully shelf hopped to the Ls. With no one looking, she transformed back into human form and disillusioned herself. She cast a well-timed tripping jinx on the next student that walked past, and, when the boy slammed into their table, she used a bit of magic to make sure that books hit the ground. One switching spell later, and she had baited the trap. 

She carelessly shelved the book she had taken and transformed again so that she could get closer. The Gryffindor boy held out the offending item with a disgusted sneer. "Hey, Nev, is this yours?" 

One look had him denying it. "Magical Me? Ugh, no! I try really hard to forget Lockhart ever existed." 

"He was pretty useless," the anonymous boy agreed. "My brother had OWLs that year and failed miserably." 

"Oh, that's awful!" Longbottom was sympathetic, and Rita held her breath. "Hopefully, Lockhart was the last in our line of useless DADA teachers for a while. Otherwise, the Aurors are going to have to lower standards for entry into the academy program." 

_Young Neville's concern for the quality of education in Auror recruits stands in stark contrast to the Headmaster who has repeatedly insisted that the Ministry must allow the school to remain independent._ Rita reflected that the best angle to damage Dumbledore might also get her back in ministerial good graces. 

Longbottom and his study partner quieted down to real work. She thought about leaving the library but settled instead to smugly wait for the space to empty for dinner. The library would be the best place to find a little more information about the staff. _After all, with a target like Dumbledore, I need a few more facts to make him squirm._

The freshly fed students trickled back into the library just as Rita shelved the Hogwarts Staff Encyclopedia Vol: 1900s. The school's own official records had given her so much ammunition that it was difficult to know where to start. Her grin was predatory as she transformed back into her other self. _I ought to be able to get a few articles out of this and hint of plenty more in my book._

She waited impatiently at the top shelf closest to the door for a transport going her way. After nearly an hour, a Hufflepuff girl walked out of the library. As she had so many times, Rita glided down onto her bookbag. Instead of hiding immediately, she cursed the sticking charm the girl had used to hold her bag closed. She slowly crawled up to a seam seeking a place to tuck under for her ride down the hall. 

"Susan, wait," a boy called, filling Rita with dread. "There's a bug on your bag." 

"Oh," the girl cried out in surprise. "Get it off, please!" 

She felt true terror as the ham handed teen reared back to swat at her. Desperate, she used the draft of his own movements to glide up off the girl. He kept swinging at her in the air. She caught a wind current that might take her out of reach when another door opened. 

The draft knocked her off course and back into range. She wheeled around toward the back of his head. _Freedom!_ She swore at the sight of a bright light. 

She felt her mistake too late. The heat and smell of fire hit her senses, but she was flying too fast to stop. Desperate, she pulled her back legs inward, trying to turn. She could tell that it was not enough. 

Suddenly, instead of the flame, she found herself surrounded by warm flesh and the distinct aroma of teenage boy. She landed to orient herself but panicked immediately. _I'm cupped! Cupped in his hands._ She flew up at gap in his fingers, but it was too small. Fear swamped her tiny being. It would take nothing for him to crush her between his palms. 

"Wait!" A man's voice called out. "What have you got there Mr. Diggory?" 

"A beetle of some sort, Professor." He answered politely. 

She pleaded inside that he would open his hands to show him. _Anything to get me free of this!_

_"_ Oh, well," the professor replied, "How about you let me have it?" He chuckled. "I might have use for it in my class tomorrow." 

Her state of terror ratcheted up when the boy opened his hands slightly, and she saw Alastor Moody before her. She froze in horror as she was transferred to his cradling hand. _I've never had such worse choices. I can reveal myself and go to Azkaban, or I can let him take me._ She could not stop the looping memories of his students describing a cursed and murdered spider. 

The ride within his palm was unsteady, courtesy of his wooden leg. Instead of heading to the dungeons, he walked toward a small side exit. She desperately wanted to pull free and fly away, but he pinched her front legs between his fingers. 

They walked into the twilight of the castle grounds. She was still helpless. To her shock, he cast a lumos and held it up in his other hand. "Aren't you a lovely one?" He asked in a voice very unlike his own. 

Pinching his wand between the fingers nearest her, he used his other hand to stoke a fingertip down her wings. Beetles do not tremble, but Rita did so violently as he pet her. He spoke to her again, in a voice that was gentle and almost loving. "Best you get on to wherever you were going. It's getting cold out." 

He spread his fingers so that she could free herself and placed the back of his hand near for her to crawl on to. "Stay warm and rest well, little pretty." He told her as she shakily climbed up his knuckle to fly away. "I will see you very soon, I think." 

Rita accepted the first updraft she caught, even though it took her out of her way. In another hour, she landed back on the windowsill of her room at The Three Broomsticks. She crawled in through the gap of open window, still present and waiting despite the lifetime of events that had passed her by. 

When she transformed back into her human form, she collapsed to her knees on the floor. Another woman might have vomited, but Rita knew the value of food too well to ever let it go. It took time to put herself back together. 

When she rose from the rug, the carpet had imprinted itself onto her knees. She scrubbed her hands down her face but found her cheeks dry of tears. The one question that she could not answer, _Did Moody recognize me?,_ was a question that she could and would put aside. 

_After all, Rita,_ she told herself, _you have a job to do. It's time to make that old goat understand that he isn't the only power in our world._

She rolled the tension from her shoulders. _I've got more than enough planned for the article I need to write. By tomorrow afternoon, the whole of wizarding Britain will be desperate for my full expose on Dumbledore._

She looked toward the blank parchment and her writing desk. Then she looked further, at the still open window. With a full body shudder, she slammed the window closed. _Think I'll start writing after a shower._

The next morning, the front-page headline of The Daily Prophet read: 

**Dumbledore's Failures: How Lax Staffing Standards Are Failing Hogwart's Students and Jeopardizing Wizarding Britain**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Little Talk by Aileen Fisher.  
> https://www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/anmlbb.htm


	28. Finding my Truth Instead of Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns to problem solve and collaborate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you originally read this chapter the day it posted (5/21), the changes do not substantively change the story. Many thanks to the commenter that pointed out my mistake with Lavender's nickname.

Harry looked up from his charms essay to see Hermione glaring at Ron. The loud snores he emitted would have drawn any living teacher's wrath, but Binns droned on about the goblin rebellion. Noting that class was almost over, he nudged Ron's foot. 

The boy woke with a snort and snuffle that earned him a disdainful sniff from their friend. "Honestly, Ron," she hissed. "If you can't pay attention, at least find something productive to do!" 

He sent Harry a bewildered look. "How'd I manage to piss her off by sleeping?" 

Lavender leaned forward, "Ron, you snore louder than Professor Binns speaks." 

When he turned as red as his Gryffindor tie, Harry consoled him with a pat on the shoulder. "No worries, mate," he glanced at Hermione. "Just, maybe ask someone else for their notes?" 

He scanned the room thoughtfully. "Hard to decide who to ask... Has to be someone with good handwriting or it's useless." 

Giving up on finishing his essay, Harry started packing his things. "Well, I've got to work on decoding my egg after class, so you can borrow my broom if you want to get some flying in." Though a part of him hated loaning out his broom, Ron was as protective of it as him. _Rather offer it to Ron than have to deal with someone else asking._

"Thanks, mate!" He grinned. "Maybe I can get someone to lob a few quaffles at me for practice." His happy look faded. "Though, I need to figure out this whole Yule Ball thing too. Would have been nice of you to wait till after I'd asked someone before you did such a big production." 

He tried to keep his irritated confusion from his face, "What do you mean?" 

"Well, you sent Greengrass a bunch of poetry and did a super elaborate thing to ask her to the ball, now all the girls are going to expect a bloke to top that!" He hunched his shoulders. "As if asking a girl out isn't hard enough as it is." 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and began packing her own things. It was Lavender that corrected him. "Harry was a Gryffindor asking a Slytherin to the major society event of the year. Add to that, he's a champion, and she's an heiress. None of the rest of us expect anything quite so elaborate. A few flowers and some courtesy should do just fine." 

He suddenly eyed her as though seeing her for the first time. "Lavender, you're a girl." Next to her, Parvati laid her head on the table and began shaking with laughter. 

"Yes, Ronald." She rolled her eyes. "That would be why I only have to suffer your snoring in class." 

Recognizing the signs of Ron about to say something stupid, Harry tried to head him off. He slung his bag and knocked an open inkwell into his friend. "Ah! So sorry, mate!" He lied. "I misjudged that one." He eyed his friend's ink spattered face and tie. "You, uh, alright there?" 

Ron screwed up his face in disgust. "I got ink in my mouth." As he spoke, Harry tried valiantly to hold in his laughter at the sight of his smeared black teeth. 

Lavender took pity on him. "Come on, Ron. I'll help you get those stains from your tie." 

As he followed her from the room, Harry heard him ask, "Will you let me borrow your notes from class? Girls have the best handwriting." 

Parvati gave him shrewd look. "You did that on purpose." 

Hermione spoke for him, "Better a bit of ink than the hexes he was about to earn himself." 

"Agreed." Thoughtful, she stared at Harry. "Lavender's my best friend and your girlfriend's favorite cousin. She may not need a big production, but she deserves better than being asked to Yule Ball in History of Magic by a boy that still had sleep creases down his face." 

_As if I don't have enough to worry about..._ He nodded to Parvati despite his weariness. "I promised Daphne I would meet her after class. If you can run interference, I'll work on Ron at dinner." 

He entered the study room after Hermione and went slow in setting their privacy charms. As he tried to decide whether it was safe to turn back around, both girls started to laugh. "Honestly, Harry, we promise to warn you if we want privacy for a snog." He blushed at the teasing as he turned to find them standing opposite the work table. 

"Right, sorry," he mumbled. He approached the table still flushed. Next to the egg, in the center of the table, two memory crystals shined. "You got those rather fast. I thought there were only a few places that sell the professional ones." 

Daphne smirked. "When I wrote my parents about ordering some of them, my father decided to give us a few of his. Seems he liked the idea of helping." 

He squirmed internally at the special treatment but tried to smile. "I wasn't as lucky with the ear plugs. I wanted some of the good muggle ones, but the shops in Hogsmeade don't offer muggle items. I could hardly send Hedwig to Argos with an order form." 

Hermione grinned at his joke. "No, I doubt that would have gone well." 

She looked between the two of them. "I think I'm becoming accustomed to missing the meaning of about half of your jokes." 

He looked her contritely. "Sorry Daphne. It's so different here that the muggle world feels like a dream sometimes. It's just nice to have someone else to remind me I'm not a nutter, and this isn't all there is to the world." 

They all stood around the table, and Harry pulled apart ear size pieces of cotton wool. As he did, Daphne mused, "I wonder if Tracey ever feels that way. Her mum and dad are both magical, but her father's first generation so a lot of her family are muggle. Maybe we should see if she gets your jokes?" 

He smiled weakly at her, but the mention of Tracey reminded him of a question he needed to ask. "Daphne, is Tracey the reason that half the school thinks we've been together for months rather than just recently?" 

Her blush gave him his answer but she responded anyway. "Yeah, she," she glanced sheepishly at Hermione. "She was with me when you had Dobby deliver that poem. She came to some conclusions that, well... that Harry being my secret love fit completely." 

Their eyes met, and they gave each other tender smiles. He felt a pang at the sight but dismissed it in favor of drawing the egg and a recording crystal to him. "How does this work?" 

Back to business, Daphne demonstrated the movement and incantation for them. Before they opened the egg, each of them tried to fit the wads of cotton into their ears. Harry frowned at how loose they felt. "This isn't going to stay in, I think." He pulled one piece out and examined it. "It's too... fluffy?" 

Hermione pulled some near to examine on the table. "Maybe if we compress it?" She folded and rolled it, but it failed to hold its shape. 

Thinking of his aunt's first aid kit with an unpleasant shudder, he rubbed the cotton wool between his fingers. "What if we get it wet, then compress it?" Daphne frowned at her own piece then cast a low force aguamenti into the palm of her hand. 

Brown eyes watched thoughtfully. "Do you think you could use an aguamenti to provide water in the desert?" 

He and Daphne shared a fond look. Neither of them teased her. Instead, her girlfriend took the question thoughtfully. "Aguamenti draws from the nearest water source. I suppose it would work, but larger power draws would be required if there was a large distance." 

It sparked a thought in him. "Aren't there sources of ground water in the desert? Seems that you could use it to draw up from that." 

Hermione grinned at them both. "That's quite true. As it is, this probably came from a cistern or the Black Lake itself." She cast her own spell and formed the wet cotton to her ears. 

Once they were all ready, Daphne set the memory crystal. It flashed blue as he opened the egg. To his shock, the noise sounded different through his makeshift ear plugs. He slammed the egg closed. "Did you hear that?" 

The girls removed their cotton ear plugs and stared at them in shock. "Yes, Harry, I heard..." Daphne searched for a description. "I heard some sort of murmur... in with the shrieking." 

He nodded."We didn't hear that before. I couldn't make it out but at least it sounded like words." 

Hermione immediately began problem solving. "Alright, so, what's different this time? The recording crystals and the wet cotton... anything else?" 

"Only that we've opened it a few times..." Daphne thought out loud. "But it wouldn't be a very good puzzle if persistence was the only thing required to make it make sense." 

Something about working with them motivated him to use his own intelligence, if only to meet them at their level. He grinned at the fun of solving a puzzle with his friends. "Well, if it's that, we'll figure it out just as we're testing the other variables." They shot him surprised and proud looks that pleased him. He pretended that everything was normal and frowned at the crystal, still flashing blue. "Should we replay back the crystal to see how the recording sounds?" 

His newest friend cast several spells in quick succession, and the crystal turned a solid green. "Are we ready?" She poised to cast the replay, and he confirmed. 

An appalling clamor sounded from the crystal, and she quickly stopped it. It rested on the table and glowed a benign green. "Well," he tried to sound as though his ears were not ringing, "that seems to be what it did the first time we opened it." 

Hermione sheepishly pulled her hands from her ears. "I think I had convinced myself that it wasn't that bad... I was wrong." 

A draft fluttered the dry cotton wool on the table. "It doesn't make sense that the cotton wool would fix it though," Daphne pursed her lips, and he realized that this was a candid version of her that most people did not see. "Seems that wrapping the thing it cotton would only muffle the noise..." 

Brown eyes widened and met his excitedly. He anticipated a brilliant idea from his best friend and was not disappointed when she said, "It's the water. The water we used to wet the cotton wool changed the sound waves as they hit our ears!" When neither he nor Daphne accepted her explanation or even seemed to comprehend it, she tried to prompt them. "The physics of sound depends greatly on the medium the waves are transmitting through." She was met with further blank looks and sighed gustily. "Harry?" 

On the spot, he blushed but admitted his complete ignorance. "Hermione, I went to a local primary school and my cousin accused me of cheating if my grades were better than his. I know that physics is a sort of science, but that's the extent of what I know." 

"You got accused of cheating if you did well?" He blanched at her slow repeat of what he had accidentally revealed. The joy of a problem to solve washed away in his humiliation, and he inwardly pleaded with her to drop it. She nodded, _M_ _essage received_. "We'll discuss that later." All business again, she surveyed the egg keenly. "Sound travels in waves, and those waves travel differently depending on what they are traveling through. It's the reason that most people hate the sound of their recorded voice; they usually hear it through the resonance of their own bones rather than the air." 

He simply stared at her in awe. The explanation was simple and sensible, but he was amazed by what she knew despite having sat next to him in most classes for the past three years. "Ok, so..." He tried to get back the inspiration to keep up with her. "You think that if we hear the egg through water we might be able to identify the language?" 

"I think it's worth a try before we bother one of the experts on our list," she waved a hand at the parchment that set on the far side of their work table. 

"Alright then," he transfigured a paper weight into a large basin and filled it with water. "How do you want to do this?" 

Daphne laid the egg in the bottom of the water. "You'll have to submerge your head to hear it, won't you?" 

His heart slammed against his sternum. "I'd, uh, really rather not..." He tried to hide the anxiety the very idea instilled but was sure he failed. "Maybe we could drop the recorder down there?" 

The girls promptly agreed. It took a moment to set up, but they watched in blissful silence as the egg and the blue flashing crystal sat below the still water for several minutes. "I think that should be enough," he declared. "And, if not, we'll start again and leave it overnight." 

As they replayed the crystal, he missed the poem in his shock that their plan had worked. The girls were excitedly talking about the meanings behind the poem when he realized, "I need to talk to Viktor!" 

"You need to..." Hermione plainly disapproved. "You didn't honestly agree to Viktor's proposition about the egg, did you?" 

He curled in on himself at her tone. "Yeah, I – well I need all the help I can get, don't I?" He laughed at the realization that he was the one that would be sharing intelligence. "I guess I should have a little more faith in you." He looked between her and Daphne. "Both of you... but I agreed so I need to go let him know what I found out." He cast a tempus and smirked at their quick work. "Maybe you can enjoy some time together, and I'll meet you at dinner?" 

He waited until he was around the corner of the hall to pull out the Marauder's Map and search for Viktor. His name rested next to Headmaster Karkaroff at the boat house. Harry set aside his discomfort with the headmaster and headed that way. 

The map was safely stowed in his robe pocket when Moody intercepted him in the Entrance Hall. He faced him with the same mix of awe and disquiet that he felt in his class. "Good afternoon, Professor." He greeted the man standing in his path. "I am, uh," he tried to keep his discomfort from his voice. "Meeting up with Viktor Krum." 

"How fortunate!" His happy tone did not settle well with his war scarred appearance, but he was oblivious. "I was hoping to speak with Headmaster Karkaroff! Perhaps we could walk together?" 

"Alright, Professor, sure." He pretended to welcome the company. 

Moody's uneven gait was slower than his normal pace. He considered the possibility that Krum would have moved on once they both got to the boat house, but he could hardly pull out the map in front of his teacher. "Tell me, Potter, how are your preparations for the next task going?" 

He was grateful for the neutral topic. "Well enough, sir. Daphne and Hermione have me on track, and good thing too! I would likely put it off till after the Yule Ball without their encouragement." 

Moody laughed heartily. "A woman's nagging can be a useful thing! Remember that, Mr. Potter!' 

Harry floundered for a reply that would ignore the man's description of his friends as nags. "They seem to actually want me to make it through this whole thing, sir. Guess I'm just grateful that they like me so well." 

The man chuckled at that. "Perhaps if your father had tried poetry and a grand romantic gesture on your mother, she'd have liked him a little sooner than she did." He harrumphed suddenly at the sound of his own words. "But you ought to be careful of that Slytherin girl. Greengrasses are sly ones even in their own house." 

He started to ask for more information but remembered the man's paranoid reputation. _Not sure I want to know what sort of absurdities he'd accuse Daphne of._ Instead, they walked along in awkward silence until they reached sight of the boathouse. 

To his relief, he spied two figures cast in the shadow of the Durmstrang ship. His relief was replaced with more discomfort when he realized that they were arguing. "Professor, should we give them a moment?" 

"I've no courtesy for a treacherous Death Eater, and he would have no courtesy for you. Remember that Potter." Moody grasped his shoulder with painful suddenness and yanked him off balance to face him. "Never trust a man that has betrayed his compatriots. That sort of man will turn on anyone at any time to serve his own ends." 

He flinched from Moody's terrifying intensity. _He'd never have saved Pettigrew not even to go to trial; he would have helped Sirius kill him._ Harry shuddered with revulsion in the face of a man with no regard for life. It was such a sharp contrast to Dumbledore that he wondered how the two men could be friends. "I," he gulped to smooth his voice. "I'll remember that Professor, and I'll give it plenty of thought." 

"Good man." With that approval, he was free. Moody turned away from him and called out. "Karkaroff, I'll have a word with you." 

Harry waved to Viktor, and the older boy fell into step beside him. "Good day, Harry. I am glad that you came to find me." He sent a dark look over his shoulder at his headmaster. "For several reasons, I am pleased." 

Wondering if he should ignore their argument, he said, "I'm glad I wasn't interrupting anything." 

"Ha!" The other boy laughed sharply. "You were interrupting, but I was not wanting to have conversation with Headmaster." He kicked a rock in their path and watched it fly into the lake. "Is not his business who I take to Yule or why." 

He stopped mid-step and turned to glower at the distant figure by the boathouse. "He's got something against Hermione?" 

"Dah," The taller boy also turned and glared at the spot where Moody and Karkaroff were arguing. "He feel that associating with first generation witch is bad for public image. He wish me to find pureblood girl to escort." 

"It's not his business though!" He expressed his own outrage. "You have the right to go with whomever you like, and Hermione is a fantastic person. The fact that you decided to befriend her just proves that you're an excellent judge of character." The other boy seemed mollified by his words and they turned to walk away from the meddling men behind them. "I can't imagine Headmaster Dumbledore trying to tell me who to be with." 

"Dumbledore has many paths of influence and is busy man. Karkaroff has only Durmstrang, and as Quidditch player, I am his most notable student in entire tenure as headmaster." Viktor dismissed his own fame with a wave of his hand. "As though that tell anyone about school." He shook his head and steered them both around the large boulder at the far side of the lake. "I did want to speak with you about egg." 

He grinned nervously. "Yeah, me too. We, uh, hit on a breakthrough to get the clue." 

Viktor's smile stretched wide on his face. "You put egg in water to hear it?" 

Harry chuckled a little. "Yeah, I guess you figured that out too?" 

"Dah," he laughed. "This morning, I carried egg to bath to think. Dropped it in and heard song when I went under to retrieve." 

"Well, I'm glad I found another way about it. Who knows how long I'd have taken to memorize the song." His memories of swimming lessons with Dudley shoving his head under water had his smile fading. "With this part of the task complete, we just have to figure out the song and a strategy, right?" 

"Dah," he frowned in thought. "Perhaps that part, we should do without cooperation? Hermione seemed to disapprove." 

"Yeah, she's a stickler for the spirit of the rules on things." He smirked at the memories of times when she had set that aside to help him. "As it is, do you think we can do something to help head off the gossip that will come from her going to Yule with you? I hate that we have to think of it, but I can't handle the idea of people trying curse my friend just because of a stupid dance." 

"I have idea," Viktor stroked the stubble growing along his jaw. "Are students able to go to village unscheduled?" 

"No, just on set weekends." He tried to follow the older boy's thoughts. "What are you planning?" 

As Harry and Viktor were heading to the Hall for dinner, he spied Ron and waved goodbye to his fellow champion. He jogged up to his friend. "Hey, mate, I need to talk to you." To his surprise, his friend looked relieved to see him instead of annoyed to be late to dinner. Rather than puzzle that out, Harry steered him to a small antechamber off the Great Hall. 

On the way there, he saw Hermione and Daphne on an intercept course. _Ron's relief makes more sense now._ He smirked as the girls followed them in and shut the door. Ignoring them for a moment, he got right to the point. "Ron, you haven't asked Lavender to Yule, yet, have you?" 

"No," his friend slumped against the wall. "I almost just asked her in class, but I think you saved me with that ink you knocked over." He snorted. "Can you imagine if I just asked her like that when she had just said girls like flowers for such things?" Daphne stood looking severe with her arms crossed.

Hermione smothered a laugh behind her hand. "Well, I suppose it's lucky for you that Harry can be a bit clumsy." She swallowed, still trying not to laugh at his obliviousness. "Professor Sprout might trade you some flowers in exchange for a hand in prepping the greenhouses for winter. And, if you've got any incentives for the twins, they might help you with a little light show to dress it up." 

"Gee, thanks, Hermione! I love having girls as friends! You think of things a bloke would never come up with!" His effusive praise at such simple suggestions had Harry rolling his eyes behind him. When Daphne kept her stern expression, he realized that something else was on her mind. 

Ron seemed to pick up on the same undercurrent from the blonde girl and eyed her nervously. "Greengrass, uh, you're Lavender's cousin and, well, you seem ok, even if you are a Slytherin..." He stopped and shuffled a little. "You got any suggestions for me? Flowers she likes or anything?" 

She glared at him. "She likes lavender blossoms and rose buds, not the full blooms, white ones." She took a menacing step toward him. "And she's more than just my cousin. Her mum and my father are twins. We've grown up as close as sisters." She moved uncomfortably close to him and crowded into his face as he cringed backward. "And if I find out that you've treated her as atrociously as I've seen you treat your best friends, then you will beg for obliviation after I'm done with you. You will treat her with courtesy and respect, or I will make you regret it." She stepped back from him and into her composed persona. "Do we understand each other?" 

Ron was white and clearly shaken. "Yeah, we understand..." 

"Excellent, if you hurry, you might catch Professor Sprout before dinner." She nodded to him and Hermione. "Good evening to you both." With that, she swept gracefully from the room. 

His friend held his own hand out in front of him, seemingly fascinated by the trembling. "Blimey, she's scary." He slumped down the wall behind him to sit on the floor. "You really like her, Harry?" 

He tensed at that question, reflexively preparing to defend her. Hermione beat him to it. "Ron, be very careful what you say next." 

His eyes jerked upward. "Oh! No! Not like that, I just..." He sighed. "I'll just have to be really careful not to bollocks it up with Lavender, then. Charlie and his best mate were dating twin sisters. Charlie and his girl had a bad break up. Her sister wouldn't let him be in his best mate's wedding cause they would have had to dance with each other." 

Harry crossed his arms and listened. _Ron seems like he's had a good scare. This is not something I've ever really seen him have to think through._

"I, uh," his friend struggled to continue. "I figure I'll just have to be real careful, but..." He buried his face in his hands. 

Hermione stepped forward. "Ron, It's just a dance. Kiss her knuckles, don't step on her toes and make sure that you compliment her often." She sat across from him on the floor and bumped his foot with hers. "This is Lavender. She’s looking for a nice night, not a life long commitment." 

He looked back and forth between them, encouraged. "Yeah, yeah, ok..." He dropped his head back. "It's just that... Gin says I need to find a spell that will silence me when I'm about to say something stupid." He whistled out a breath. "She's not wrong." He sat up and opened his eyes wide. "I, uh, Harry, mate, I never did apologize for the shit I said about the tournament. I am sorry... I was being a bloody bell end about the whole thing." He shot Hermione a contrite look. "Sorry for swearing." 

Inside, he warred with his reflex to gloss over Ron's flaws and his desire to rid himself of the sense of impending doom with him. "Ron, mate..." He scrounged for the right words. "I believe that you're sorry... and I've forgiven you." The red head grinned in relief at him, and Harry wanted for a moment to leave it there. However, he remembered Remus's instructions on honesty and continued. "I have forgiven you, but I don't trust you not to let your temper get between us again. I want to trust you, but I can't seem to do it yet." His voice trailed off to nothing, and they all sat in tense silence. For several long moments, he and Ron avoided each other's gaze. 

Finally, Hermione cut through the tension. "Well, we don't have to figure everything out tonight, but, I appreciate that we can be honest with each other. I hope we get better at it with practice." She levered herself up, and they followed her from the room. 

In the Great Hall, Ron gave them a halfhearted wave as he set a course for Professor Sprout. When he took his spot at the Gryffindor table, Harry made sure to leave a space at his side for his friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by The Truth by Sami Chester.  
> https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-truth-9
> 
> To those in the States, stay safe and well this holiday weekend.


	29. Keeping Friends and Winning Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne enjoys a picnic with Harry, Hermione and Viktor.

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Daphne dressed warmly as Tracey chattered to her about the plans she had made with her newly healed cousin Ellen. "So, we're going to see what mad creatures Hagrid has about these days. I don't take his class, but the man will take any chance to talk about his pets. Then, she promised to give me a tour of the Beauxbaton carriage." She eyed her long robe, scarf and fur lined cloak. "What are you doing this morning?" 

Aware of Pansy's ears perking up at the question, she shrugged coyly. "I'm not certain. Harry sent me a note to meet him in the Entrance Hall this morning dressed warmly." 

Tracey swooned dramatically. "That is so romantic! Any beaux I get will be doomed with him setting my standards." 

She cut her gaze to her friend and rolled her eyes. "He is a normal person you know? With flaws like any human?" 

"Don't ruin my fairy tale." She replied as she stuck her tongue out. "You have the closest thing to a perfect boyfriend of anyone, and I fully intend to live vicariously through you." 

"I shall let him know that, if any of the boys hex him, it's for setting unreasonable expectations." She told her friend teasingly. 

Pansy sniffed condescendingly. "As if anyone needs that for a reason to hex to a cheater." 

Her lips pinched in anger at her roommate. "Easy Pansy," she shot back with a vicious look. "Jealousy isn't a good look for you." She deliberately turned her back to the other girl and smiled at Tracey. "Whoever you end up with, be sure they have an identity outside of their family. I can't imagine how tiring it would be to be with someone moldering in the shadow of another man's deeds." 

"Bitch," Pansy spat quietly behind her. 

"Bless you," she replied promptly. At the shocked silence behind her, she turned her head to meet Pansy's squinting eyes. "You did sneeze?" 

Her responding smile was little more than a baring of teeth. "Of course. Thank you." 

Tiring of the girl's stupid power plays, she gave her best friend a sincere smile. With a motion to summon her charm bracelet, she swept from the dorm room and headed to the Entrance Hall. 

It took a few moments for her to meet her beaux and her love in the hall. Both were bundled up, but neither looked particularly fashionable. _I will have to take this matter in hand, I think. The heir to a great house can hardly be allowed to dress so haphazardly._ She approached them slowly and offered Harry her hand. 

He bowed over it and brushed his dry lips against her knuckles. "Daphne, you look lovely this morning." She accepted his compliment as Viktor Krum lumbered toward them. 

He bowed over Hermione's hand, but she was pleased to note a distance that indicated purely platonic intentions. "Hermione, I am delighted you could join us this morning." He looked around at each of them. "I hope to enjoy picnic with my new friends. I requested traditional Bulgarian food for our breakfast. Many things for you to try." 

She accepted Harry's arm and tucked her hand into his elbow as they followed Krum and Hermione out of the castle onto the grounds. Envious and curious looks followed them, but it was a red head walking with her cousin that had her frowning a bit. "Weasley was still planning to ask Lavender to the dance?" 

He nodded. "He's planning to ask this morning, I think. He was up half the night with his brothers and sister coming up with something to go with the flowers he charmed out of Professor Sprout." He gave her a side eye as they walked along. "Thanks for the suggestions last night. You may have terrified him, but he was grateful." 

"Humph," she still couldn't get the sound of Hermione's distress over him from her ears. "So long as he stays terrified enough to be good to her. I might enjoy hurting him too much if I got started." 

He patted the hand tucked into his elbow absently. "I'll be sure to let him know." 

The casual tone he took had her rolling her eyes. Before she could cut him with a reply, they approached a lovely picnic spread with a view of the lake. Cushions were scattered across the thick blanket, and food filled covered baskets and dishes. "This is beautiful, Viktor," she complimented sincerely. "We thank you for making such an effort." 

He tilted his head in reserved but gracious acknowledgment of her comment. She selected her cushion and reclined with a keen awareness of the eyes that watched them. She gave Harry her most charming smile and extended her hand to him. _Sit with me, or people will think we're fighting,_ she tried to think at him _._ He took the hint and settled behind her, reclining on an opposite pillow. Viktor waited politely for Hermione to settle before he chose a space opposite her on the blanket. 

Anyone looking would see two friends joining a fond couple for breakfast. It could not have been a better arrangement had she staged it for photos. "I have selected several favorite Bulgarian foods for you to try. I hope you will enjoy them as I have enjoyed English Breakfast." 

Hermione admired the food resting in stasis before them. "If this is an example of a traditional Bulgarian breakfast, then it is no wonder that you liked a full English. There is so much here, do you bother to eat anything else during the day?" 

His deep laugh echoed across the lake and drew even more attention to them. "Ah, Hermione, if I ate so much each day, my broom would not carry me!" 

Somehow, his natural charisma put her at ease instead of raising her jealousy from its grave. "Perhaps you could add a lightening charm to your robes to help with that?"

He laughed again, and his eyes crinkled in happiness. "I am pleased that you joined me for picnic. It was hope of participating in tournament that I could meet new people." 

"Well, we're delighted to have a chance to get to know you and learn more about your home," she gave him a sincere smile.

Harry leaned forward to pass small plates to everyone. "Viktor, will you tell us what everything is?" 

He happily played host as Daphne and her friends wrapped their lips around unfamiliar words with delicious meanings. Bonitsa was the first thing she tasted. It was savory and rich, but she was glad he had given them each small portions. "This is fantastic," she announced carefully scooping up the last bite onto her fork. "I generally don't care for egg dishes, but I am amazed by this one." 

He smiled at her and poured her an opaque milky liquid. "Try it with Boza. This is traditional Bulgarian breakfast." 

To her delight, the tangy drink offset the richness of her bonitsa. As she sipped and savored, Harry frowned at his empty plate. "Is this something you normally eat every morning or is it made for special occasions?" 

"Bonitsa is widely available, though on solstices we add coins carved with runes of blessing." He leaned back on one arm and smiled wistfully. "Bonitsa is cut to make sure that all get a slice with rune inside. On summer solstice, my rune was particular good fortune. Grandmother said I was certain to catch the snitch at world cup." 

The boys took their empty plates and, with Viktor's guidance, served everyone another pastry. She smiled at the happy look on her girlfriend's face as she asked questions about Bulgarian Yule traditions. Daphne was enjoying their conversation so much that she failed to notice the beetle that landed on her arm until Hermione leaned forward and flicked it away. "Seems the little creature wanted breakfast as well, but I don't think we're inclined to share." 

Viktor followed the creature's uncontrolled launch and flight with his eyes. Turning back to him, he said, "When magical division of Bulgarian Police would seek information, they would transfigure recording crystals into bugs and small rodents. My grandfather tells of catching bugs in jars and waiting for a day. If it was still bug, he was not being surveilled." He took on a faraway look before focusing back on them. "Grandfather was not criminal. He opposed government refusal to join ICW." 

Harry remarked. "It's a shame how little of current wizarding history we learn. I think it would be fascinating to know more about the whole of the world post war rather than just the muggle history I got in primary school." 

Agreeing, she nodded, "It would be helpful, I think. Most pureblood families teach it as part of early lessons, but that just ensures that we get our own family story. It would be useful to hear other perspectives on the events." As the conversation continued, she leaned back against her cushion and enjoyed good food, great companions and the sun on her face. 

Still full from her prolonged and rich breakfast picnic, Daphne moved to pass the Great Hall at lunch. She had some post from Editor Herald that needed replies and an essay to complete. To her surprise, Lavender and Parvati rushed up to her. 

The distress on her cousin's face would have worried her, but her best friend's eyes brimmed with laughter. "Oh, Daphne! They're awful!" 

She ushered the two Gryffindor girls from the stream of students. "What's awful?" 

Parvati answered for her friend. "Ron's dress robes. He brought them to the house elves for alteration, but they couldn't do anything with them." 

Her mind had been consumed with Arbour Green's catalogue and Project Compendium so it took more than a beat to reset her thought path on more mundane concerns. "How bad could they really be?" 

Lavender groaned dramatically before she answered. "They are crushed velvet, and maroon, with more ruffles than my nightdress!" 

Daphne cringed as her mind supplied her with the appalling mental image of bright red hair clashing with something so regrettable. "You said the house elves couldn't repair them?" 

Parvati looped an arm around her friend in comfort as she replied. "They couldn't even lengthen them. The wretched things are embedded with so much magic, one of the elves got knocked back when his color change spell reflected back on him." She choked back laughter. "Ginny Weasley said their mum bought them second hand planning to adjust them, but nothing she tried worked. The twins even tried to light them on fire!" 

Finally calming enough to see the absurdity in it all, Lavender gave a weak chuckle. "I can't imagine how much someone paid to have them commissioned. There is no situation I can think of when they would have been fashionable or that level of protection necessary." She rolled her eyes. "I like Ron well enough, and I'm glad to go with him, but I was planning to use photos from the Ball in the album I'm making my mum. I know it seems petty, but the photos will be terrible with him in those robes." 

She tapped her hand against her thigh as she thought. "You're wearing that navy set of robes that my mum had from the Ministry Ball, right?" She waited for Lavender's nod. "We'll just write my mum and ask that she send over Father's matching dress robes. The house elves can alter them with little effort." 

Relief bloomed across her cousin's face. "Daphne, that's brilliant! I knew you would come up with something!" 

She spied her sister striding their way but kept her focus as a thought occurred to her. "Do you think we'll need to convince him to use them?" 

Lavender was already shaking her head, "He'll be relieved. And I'll just tell him that we should match for photos." 

Daphne abandoned the conversation when she saw the carefully concealed distress on Astoria's face. "What's the matter?" She asked as soon her sister was in earshot. 

The younger girl got close to discourage eavesdroppers before she replied. "Tracey's in the hospital wing. Blaise Zabini asked her to Yule, and Bulstrode cursed her in the back!" 

Everything within her froze with a cold rage. She spun on her heels and marched to find her friend. She barely even noticed the students scattering before her or the three girls following quickly behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those rare times when I actually liked my working title.


	30. Notions, Potions and a Sore Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days, being Deputy Headmistress is a headache.

Minerva's head throbbed in time with her steps as she made her way to the headmaster's office. The gargoyle guarding the winding staircase swept from her path without her needing to provide a password. _Given the tidings I bring tonight, Albus, you may not find me such a welcome visitor._ Her innate courtesy won out when she came face to face with her old friend. "Albus, how was the Ministry?" 

He either ignored or failed to notice her curtness as he replied, "Well enough, Minerva. Would you like a lemon drop?" 

She shook her head to decline and pulled her notes from her pocket. She sat before him and began relaying the many happenings of the school. "The staff meeting was attended by all instructors but Professors Binns and Trelawny. In addition, per my invitation, Headmistress Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff were also there." 

He selected his own candy from the dish on his desk and asked, "Have you had any chance to find a timeslot so that I can attend these meetings? Surely it would be better to have me there and save you from delivering a report on them each week." 

She gave in and massaged at the pain at the center of her forehead. "Yes, Albus. As I do every year, I checked your schedules with the Wizengamot, the Ministry and the ICW against the Hogwarts schedule. The only two hour time span reliably available each week is at 3am on Sunday morning. And I refuse to subject our staff to a constant shifting of our meeting." 

He hummed a bit in apparent agreement. "I suppose it is bad enough that you are subject to a constant reschedule of our discussion." He tapped his wand to a rune on his desk, and a tea tray appeared before them. He moved from behind his desk to sit with her and poured a steaming cup of tea. _Chamomile,_ she thought at the smell of it. "Very well, give me your report so that we can each get some much needed rest." 

"Poppy informs us that the effects of Miss Davis's cursing have been fully reversed. The regrowth of her hair consumed the bulk of her Capillimentum stocks, but she expects to be able to reorder enough for the year within her normal budget. I am concerned that another such incident will require additional funding to augment her supplies." She pinched the bridge of her nose, but it did little to counter her pain. 

"We will address approving additional Hospital Wing funding if it becomes necessary. Fortunately, the longer term funding for supplies has replenished from treating the basilisk victims." He told her solemnly. "Did Miss Davis have any other injuries?" 

"Yes, but Miss Davis's skin lesions required only a counter. It seems that Miss Bulstrode used more emotion than skill in her casting." She took a sip of her tea in vain hope that it would ease her stress. "Severus is insisting on addressing the whole event as a house matter. While I disagree with his approach, I do hope that his attempts to arbitrate a truce will distract him from Ms. Skeeter's latest smears. Mr. Longbottom has enough to worry about." 

He sipped his own tea with a thoughtful frown. "What is it that you disagree with in Severus's approach?" 

"He is insisting that the whole event is nothing but romantic rivalry among a few high spirited youths. However, viewed in context with the attack against Miss Davis's cousin, I believe this must be addressed as attacks by blood purists against half-bloods." She paused, but Albus only sat quietly. 

After a beat, she continued. "Olympe agrees and has instructed all of her students to take precautions. Unfortunately, we have little flexibility in increasing patrols and monitoring the students. We already rely on our prefects so much that one fifth year Ravenclaw resigned this year out of concerns for his academics. Filius has more and more difficulty filling the role among his house each year." She closed her eyes briefly. "We discussed options, of course, but Alastor was less help than I might have hoped. He spent most of the meeting antagonizing Severus and Headmaster Karkaroff." 

"I don't like to hear that," Albus said thoughtfully. "I would hope that Alastor would set aside such things for the good of our students. I shall make an effort to speak with him." 

"Thank you, perhaps he will listen to you. I have had little luck, but I don't have your history with him." She frowned at the thought of her discussion with the irascible man. "Did you find him receptive to your concern about his demonstration of Unforgivables to all years instead of only his OWL students?" 

She felt dismay when he shook his head. "We spoke only briefly about it. He was adamant that it was necessary. I have tried to speak with him a few other times, but I've had little luck catching him outside of meals." 

She bit back her retort and glanced down at her notes for reference before moving to the next point. "I have refused to honor detentions or point losses for any student in reference to Ms. Skeeter's article. Despite Severus's insistence that the students had libelous intentions, I have extreme doubts that Mr. Longbottom, Miss Bones, or Mr. Diggory would speak so openly to a reporter that has blatantly lied about others this year. The character of the quotes seem more like something she would have overheard." 

"I agree and considered barring her from the castle, but, as her primary target, it would seem petty or as if I had something to hide." He sighed deeply. "I hate that our staff must pay for their association with me in such a way." 

"The article was deliberately vicious and highly biased, but she had several points that will be impossible to refute." She set her cup down on the tray. "It is well known that Severus is ill suited for working with our younger students. He acknowledges it himself, and he has resubmitted his request to apprentice that young woman from Germany. He wishes to allow her to take on his first through third year students." When her friend pinched his mouth in disapproval, her headache returned, but she persevered. "Not only will it increase our staff support, it will free him up to brew the more complicated potions that take the majority of Poppy's budget each year. The cost savings might actually offset the expense of the additional instructor entirely." 

He wandlessly summoned her cup and refreshed her tea. "I will have to thoroughly vet the girl before I can put her candidacy before the board of governors. I assume that this is the same person he mentioned to me before the start of term?" 

She held in her frustration. "This is the same person that he mentioned to you before the end of last term, twice over summer holidays and prior to the beginning of this term. This is also the third person that he has submitted as a potential apprentice. The first two found other masters to train them before we even put their names forward." 

He nodded. "I recall that Severus was quite disappointed." 

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes like one of their students at that understatement. "You will also need to vet, interview, and submit a new DADA professor to the Board for next year. Alastor has no intention of staying past this year. He made it clear when Remus left that he was agreeing only as a favor to you." 

"Of course, Minerva, I shall begin that as well." His blasé reply pushed her past her tolerance. 

"When?" She set her tea down with a sharp click and rose to put her chair between them. "When will you do any of it, Albus? In between Wizengamot sessions and international portkeys? Perhaps while you are recruiting for your Order? We are desperately understaffed, and Ms. Skeeter is giving the Ministry every excuse to demand a review and audit from the Board of Governor's!" She paced agitatedly. "You are so determined to trust only your own judgement that nothing gets done." 

He steepled his fingers and watched her quietly, but she refused to feel like a chastised student. She rested her hands on the back of her chair and met his eyes unflinchingly. After a long moment, he slumped a bit in his chair. Suddenly, he looked every one of his hundred plus years. "Minerva, there was a time when you also trusted my judgement." 

The restless anger drained from her, and she returned to her chair. "Albus, I still do trust your judgement, but you must realize that there is a difference between trust and blind loyalty." She felt tired down her bones but was grateful to realize that her headache was gone. "There was a time when my trust in you was reciprocated. I am not sure when that time passed us by." 

When he remained silent, she sadly looked to her notes from the staff meeting. "I've only a few more things to review. Perhaps we can discuss them over breakfast, when we've each had some rest." She drained the last mouthful of chamomile from her cup. "Thank you for the tea, Albus. Good night." 

His soft, "Good night, Minerva," followed her through the door. She pulled it shut behind her and trudged tiredly back to her own quarters. 

Despite her intention to have a lie in the next morning, Minerva woke before sunrise. She resigned herself to the fact that she could no longer sleep in and readied for the day. When she stumbled upon her notes from the staff meeting, she slid them into her pocket. _Perhaps Albus and I can finish our conversation with clear heads this morning._

The headmaster's chair was empty when she arrived at breakfast in the hall. She was hardly surprised and, instead of her usual seat, settled next to Severus. "Good morning," she greeted him mildly. 

"Is it?" He replied with biting sarcasm. 

Inwardly, she smiled. _In some ways, you are so very predictable._ "I was hoping you would tell me, Severus. Is it a good morning?" 

He answered her as FIlius joined them. "I suppose it is a better morning for some than others." He glanced to their fellow head of house. "Should anyone seek to assign Miss Bulstrode a detention, they should schedule it with me. She will be helping in my potion lab for quite some time." 

She scanned across the Slytherins at their table. "Detention, Severus? Surely that is not a sufficient punishment for the attack on Miss Davis?" 

She sat quietly between the two Greengrass sisters. Her lustrous hair and clear complexion only reminded Minerva of the sobbing wreck of a girl that had faced her in the hospital wing the prior day. Severus followed her gaze and slowly explained. "Miss Davis's father is the steward to the Greengrass family estate. The Bulstrode family owns a small cauldron factory that relies on distribution in shops owned by the Greengrass family." 

With impeccable timing, the post owls swooped into the hall. A non-descript looking owl landed in front of young Millicent as she sat on the opposite side of Pansy Parkinson and avoided looking at her former victim. Minerva was pleased to see the girl blanch white as she read her letter. _Whatever was written to her, the girl will think twice before cursing someone so publicly._ The sound of her own thoughts made her nervous as she remembered the danger of a secretive enemy. She decided to sound out loud her interpretation. "So Miss Bulstrode has been warned against a public attack on Miss Davis as a protectee of the Greengrass family. What's to stop her from simply being more subtle next time?" 

When he chuckled at her question, Minerva remembered why she had always hated the Slytherin attitude toward life. _Not every interaction is a political chess match, Severus._

"Any attack on Tracey Davis, going forward, will be assumed to come from Millicent Bulstrode. Not only can she not attack the girl, it is now in her best interests to protect and defend her." Severus leaned back in his chair smugly. 

As Filius quietly applauded his manner of achieving peace within his house, she considered old situations within this new context. _All those years ago, the Slytherin boys never attacked Remus directly, not unless the boys had done something overt to them. His father was Fleamont's personal assistant. An unprovoked attack on him would have been an attack against a protectee of House Potter. Would the family would have found some way to damage the attackers through... commercial interests? Political ones?_ She was unsure how Fleamont would have responded. Afterall, schoolboys were an unpleasant and cliched bunch. Perhaps he let smaller slights pass, but he had always had a long memory. 

A part of her was uncomfortable with the idea. _Would dear Euphemia's husband really be so ruthless?_ Then she remembered the Potter's globally successful businesses. _I suppose r_ _uthlessness comes in many forms._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by I've a Pain in my Head from Jane Austen.  
> https://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/jane-austen/i-ve-a-pain-in-my-head/


	31. Doing to Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries a new approach to protect the people in his life.

Harry paid little attention to the three heads of house clustered together at their breakfast table. Instead, he flicked concerned eyes toward Daphne. _Seems like we'll need to switch up our plans for dancing lessons so that we can keep an eye on Tracey._ He felt no particular disappointment. Though he knew that he needed the lessons soon, there were other things he needed to learn as well. 

"You seem lost in thought, Harry." Ginny's voice broke him from his planning. "What's got you so pensive?" 

He nodded toward the Slytherin table. "Just trying to decide if we need to set up a guard system for Tracey like we had for Hermione after the first task." 

She smirked. "Do you mean the system that had Hermione getting up an hour early to avoid us all?" 

HIs cheeks warmed at the reminder. "Yeah, I guess that didn't work out like we meant it to." 

"Look, Harry," she leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "You have to accept that you can't protect everyone in your life. You'll drive the people you love barmy and have no life." 

He clenched his fingers around his goblet of water. "Are you saying I shouldn't try to look after people?" 

She shook her head, and the red strands falling around her shoulders gave him a vision of her lying still and pale in the Chamber of Secrets. "I think that would be a bit hypocritical of me." When she smiled softly, he returned to the present moment. "I just mean that you need to balance it. I'm not just the youngest and only daughter of the Weasley clan, Harry. I'm the first Weasley girl in five generations. Every member of the family tries to coddle me." 

His eyes widened at the revelation. "How did you manage to convince them to let you come back after your first year, then? Seems like your mum would have wanted you home." 

"Oh, Mum and Dad were the easiest to convince. Mum insisted on a weekly ritual cleansing to treat the shadows in my magic, and Dad insisted on teaching me Occlumency to manage the nightmares." She listed these off like they made perfect sense. 

"Occlumency? Ritual cleansings?" Harry sighed. "How much of the magical world do I still know nothing about?" 

She chuckled at his question. "Probably quite a bit. Even I still have loads to learn, and I've grown up with it." She glanced around to ensure their privacy. "The ritual cleansings were designed by my mum to ensure that I didn't suffer any long term damage to my magical core. The Occlumency... mind shielding... was to help me prevent and deal with the nightmares." 

He frowned, thinking of some of his more upsetting nightmares. "Oh, that sounds really useful." 

"It is, but that's not why I was telling you about it." She refilled her water and continued. "Mum and Dad knew that they couldn't protect me every moment, so they did what they could and then taught me to protect myself. Percy, Ron and the twins were the ones I wanted to curse by two weeks into the holiday." 

"More than usual?" He was delighted to see her nearly spit her water. 

"Prat!" She choked a moment then caught her breath. "Yes, more than usual! I could barely get a moment alone or any peace at all. It only really got better when we went to Egypt to see Bill. He took them aside and explained that they would only make things worse if they made me reckless or want to avoid them. Then he taught me some detection spells that curse breakers use to determine if an object is imbued with dark magic." 

He smiled wistfully. "I've not met Bill yet, but he seems to be a smart fellow." 

"Bill's brilliant! By far my favorite brother." She grinned proudly at him as the twins made their way to the table. 

"Oh! Fred! She's wounded me!" George dramatically stumbled up behind his sister. "She's crushed my heart!" He grabbed at his abdomen in fake pain and slumped onto the bench beside her. 

"That's not where your heart is you daft boy!" She giggled as she tried to shove him off his seat. Of course, he was too big to move from her angle so he only cried out in further mock anguish. 

Fred perched on the bench on Ginny's other side and looped an arm around her shoulder. "I dunno, George, she makes a good point." He grinned wickedly. "Bill's my favorite brother, too." 

George abandoned his dramatics and sat up with a serious look at his twin. "Of course, you know, this means war." 

Fred dropped a kiss on his sister's cheek. "You're welcome," he told her as he snatched a buttered half of muffin from her plate and fled the hall casting ice patches on the floor behind him. His twin raced after him. 

Harry laughed happily at their antics even as he saw Professor McGonagall rise to go after them. "That should earn them a few detentions." _Guess I'll have the use of my map for a bit longer. Fred and George won't have time to need it._

Neville entered the hall looking over his shoulder quizzically. _He must have passed the twins on the way in._ Before anyone at the Gryffindor table could call a warning, the boy hit one of the ice patches and slid. Despite wind-milling his arms desperately, it was obvious he would lose his balance. Harry's wand was in his hand before he realized it, and he shot a quick charm at his housemate that kept him upright and pulled him clear. 

"Thanks!" He called out to Harry, before turning around to banish the patch that had sent him sliding. 

Harry looked back to Ginny who was still laughing at her brothers' antics. "Thanks for the advice, Gin. I appreciate it." 

After she replied, he rose from the table and walked over to help Neville remove the last of the hazards. Between the two of them, it only took a moment. "Good thing they used something we've seen before, right Harry?" 

He chuckled at the memory of Percy skidding across the ice traps they had set in the showers last term. "Yeah! It's only a funny joke when it's not you getting caught in it though." 

With the last patch banished, he and Neville parted ways. The other boy walked to the table and sat next to Ginny. Harry set his sights on Daphne who sat at the Slytherin table with a cold expression that even the twins jokes failed to thaw. 

He ignored the glares he got from Malfoy's end of the table. He was too busy trying to think of a way to make Daphne smile. By the time he got to her, he had adopted an exaggerated dignity that was very different from his normal manner. He swept a low bow and tried not to blush at the attention he was getting. _Funny that hostility bothers me less than some third year fluttering her eyes at me._ "Miss Greengrass, I bid you good morning." 

She rolled her eyes at him but rose to let him kiss her hand. "Good morning, Mr. Potter." 

He promptly greeted Tracey and Astoria as well. The younger girl blushed and smiled as he bowed respectfully over her hand. "Daphne," he dropped his silly act with relief. "I was wondering if you and your companions would like to join me on a walk." 

He frowned inwardly as Tracey looked ready to decline. He shot Daphne a meaningful look that he hoped was subtle. She picked up his meaning. "A walk sounds lovely, Harry, the three of us had planned to have some time together." She turned to the other girls. "Tracey, Astoria, how about we all enjoy a walk?" 

Put on the spot, the other two girls quickly agreed. Harry offered his arm to Daphne and led them from the Hall. 

Daphne waited until they were clear of most other students to question him. "What's this about Harry? We were planning to meet after lunch." 

He stepped around so that he could look at all three girls. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened to Tracey and try to prevent it from happening again." 

She gave him a weak smile. "Harry, it's nice of you to want to help, but I'm not your responsibility. I'm just your girlfriend's friend." 

"Seems to me," Astoria spoke up, "that you being safer will make Daphne happy. Isn't that what a good boyfriend is supposed to want?" 

Harry grinned at his newest ally. "I was thinking we could go out to the quidditch pitch and practice shields and defenses." 

"I already know the shield charm, Harry." Tracey protested. 

"Then why didn't you use it?" The third year girl seemed genuinely curious. 

She sighed, "I didn't even have my wand out." 

Harry spoke up. "It's one thing to know a spell, but it's another thing entirely to be able to use it when we need it." He smiled with relief when the girls nodded. 

At the practice pitch, several students were racing on their brooms, and others were practicing with quaffles. Harry and his companions had to walk close to the changing rooms to find enough unoccupied space. He nodded in satisfaction. "Usually when Hermione and I practice this way, one person defends while the other fires at them. It's too cold out here for water spells, so lets just use colour charms. We'll each take turns defending." They still seemed skeptical, so he volunteered. "I'll defend first." 

Each girl took up a formal dueling stance opposite him. _This may take a bit of time._ He waited impatiently for them to cast, but Tracey and Astoria seemed hesitant. Fortunately, Daphne had practiced with him before and had no such problem. "Protego," he called out and the color charm fell harmlessly off his shield. 

Daphne looked to her partners with aggravation. "You'll give him no challenge if you wait for your turn to cast. You saw him with that dragon!" 

Finally, they moved against him. A string of colour charms hit the changing room walls behind him, and a few spells actually struck his shield. Though it was still not the challenge he had when preparing for the first task, the girls improved their casting speed within minutes of starting the game. 

Daphne called for an end to the round when Astoria's colour charm went very wide and struck a passing first year. He laughed as the girl went over and reversed the spell that had spattered his robe in green splotches. "Tracey, do you want to defend next?" 

"But, we didn't even hit you!" She said, exasperated. 

"That's rather the point though," he replied. 

"I suppose you're right." She walked over to take Harry's spot. 

They waited for Astoria to return, and Tracey called out, "Ready on three?" 

At three, Daphne cast and her friend's sleeve promptly turned silver. "Let's go until you've deflected three times?" 

At her nod, Astoria and Daphne both cast at her. This time her shield deflected Daphne's spell, but Astoria's was so low that it struck her shoe. The younger girl laughed at herself. "I was aiming for your tie!" 

Harry waited until she dropped her shield and fired twice in succession. To her distress, the whole front of her robe was Gryffindor red. "Really? You had to use your house colors?" 

He laughed, "Everyone else was so it seemed to fit." 

She reversed his spell and squared her shoulders in determination. "Alright, but you won't get me again." 

By the time Hermione found them an hour later, the changing room wall was spattered in an ugly mix of red, green, gold and silver. Each of the girls had taken several turns defending and were much faster at shielding from spell fire. Astoria's aim was still atrocious, but she was grinning widely. "Hermione, save us from your friend! He'll drive us to magical exhaustion!" 

Harry accepted her teasing as she had meant it and drew himself up as though to tower over her. The effect was diminished by the girl's matching height. "Next I'll have you running aiming drills! Constant Vigilance!" He gave his best attempt at an impression of Moody. 

"You'll be running drills in detention if Filch sees what you've done to the changing rooms!" Hermione told them with laughter in her voice. "What on earth were you trying to do?" 

Tracey smiled at her tiredly. "We were practicing shield charms." 

Harry let the girls work to restore the colors of their clothes while he started casting at the wall to turn it back to the brown it had been before. "They're getting much faster, Hermione. I think we should suggest this exercise to all the younger years." He called that over his shoulder. 

"That might be a good idea." Daphne responded. "As you said, Harry, it's little use to know how to shield if you can't raise it when you need it." 

He turned back to the girls and felt a little nervous when he saw Hermione smirking mischievously. "Did anyone actually manage to get Harry?" 

They shook their heads, and he realized what she was suggesting. "How about we actually do something a little more challenging? I'll defend without using the building to cover my back, and we'll see how I do?" 

As they all set up in the new configuration, Harry thought, _I don't think I'll come through this one spotless._

Five tired teens entered the castle an hour later. Astoria broke from the group first, exclaiming that she wanted to write her mother. Tracey graciously accepted their escort to the library where she was meeting the Beauxbaton student that had invited her to Yule the day before. Infuriatingly, Bulstrode had known that she already had a date when she cursed her. _The whole thing was vicious and pointless. The fact that she only got detention is insulting!_ Harry thought as they were introduced to Tracey's date. 

Once back in the hall, Daphne tucked her hand into his elbow as they walked along. "It's got nothing to do with Blaise," she explained. "It's more to with the fact that some of the Slytherins disapprove of any pureblood mixing with non-purebloods." 

He sent a side glance her way. "So, was the attack partly about us?" 

To his relief, she shook her head. "It was more the fact that so many purebloods in our generation are mixing with half-bloods and muggleborns. If it was just us, they wouldn't feel so threatened, but Davies is going to the ball with Delacour. Hermione is going with Krum. Cresswell is going with Padma Patil..." 

He snorted out a laugh. "How do you keep track of all that?" 

She shrugged. "The same way my father keeps track of the shifting alliances of the Wizengamot. I pay attention, consider implications, and assign importance accordingly. Mother says it's not gossip; it's good practice." 

"I'm not sure about that one," Hermione said with a chuckle. "But I suppose I don't know much about preparing for a political life either." 

When he laughed and agreed with his friend, Daphne gave him a deeply thoughtful look. _Uhoh, why does that make me uncomfortable?_

The trio fell silent as they passed other students on their way to Hermione's study room. They were safely ensconced in their private haven when Daphne turned to him to ask him a question that made him squirm inside. "You do know about the Potter seat in the Wizengamot?" She scrubbed a hand down her face, shedding the last of her public façade. "What am I saying, of course you don't, because everyone in your life probably assumes you already know." 

He mirrored her exasperated expression and flopped down into his favorite chair. "Nobody seems to tell me anything until I ask. Sometimes not even then." He huffed a sarcastic laugh as the girls joined him in the sitting area. "We've only barely started covering the Wizengamot in History of Magic so I don't even know what it really does." 

Hermione's lecture was concise but did little to sooth his irritability. "The Wizengamot is the legislative and legal body of Wizarding Britain, with the role of the Ministry and Minister of Magic being executive and administrative." Her brows crinkled in thought. "It's made up of 49 members, with the Chief Warlock making 50. It functions as a branch of the government that is coequal with Parliament, and the Minister of Magic, like the Prime Minister, is elected through the body." 

She paused to draw a breath and concluded. "The 49 seats are a mix of hereditary and Ministry appointments. It originally had 10 Ministry seats, but several primary family lines died out during the early Goblin rebellions. Since, under the original treaty, the Goblins managed administration of inheritances; the Wizengamot refused to seat the nominal heirs elevated by Gringotts. Those house seats reverted to the Ministry. Under the next treaty and subsequent legislation, the Wizengamot replaced the old process of elevating a cadet family line with a complex set of requirements administered jointly by the Ministry and the Chief Warlock. This removal of the last influence the Goblins had on the make-up of the Wizengamot led to the next goblin rebellion." 

Harry was still trying to absorb this rapid fire recitation when Daphne dropped a kiss on her cheek. "That's amazing, love. You just managed to sum up over a hundred years of brutal fighting and contentious politics in less than a minute. It's no wonder your History of Magic notes are so coveted." Hermione blushed happily at the compliment. 

He hesitated to break their moment, but he needed to know the rest. "So, the Potter seat is a hereditary one?" 

Back on point, Daphne nodded. "Yes, I assume the seat's under a proxy until you come of age as the only reasons a seat is suspended is criminal conviction or ministerial debt." 

He felt a sick bitterness start in his stomach. "So I guess there's no point in making any career plans? Wish someone would have told me that straight out instead of encouraging me to set goals." 

His aggrieved tone must not have sat well with her because she snapped back. "If you don't want my help, you don't have to accept it! Don't blame me for the faults of everyone else in your life!" 

Reflexively, Harry backtracked. "You're right. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes in thought then asked, "What does having a hereditary seat really mean?" 

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you," she said softly before replying to his question. "For right now, your hereditary seat means that your proxy can put forth legislation, ask questions or debate, and vote in legal proceedings on your behalf. Once you reach the age of 17, you can ascend to the seat yourself, or you can appoint a different proxy." 

"So I don't have to go into politics," his frustration eased at the news. _I have choices._ "Is there a way that I can find out all of this house Potter stuff at once instead stumbling over it as I go through life?" 

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "There ought to be, but it would usually come from your guardian and obviously that isn't happening." 

He tensed up at this latest topic. "My guardian is my aunt Petunia, mum's sister. She hates magic and probably wouldn't tell me about all this even if she knew." 

Hermione consoled him, "It seems unlikely that she could help with information on your father's side anyway." 

_I could ask Sirius or Remus, but they would still only know parts of it. And I can't risk Sirius getting exposed trying to help me._ He felt tired and defeated in that moment. "Feels like the only people that want to help me are the ones that can't." He realized how ungrateful that sounded with a flinch. "Not that I don't appreciate it." 

Daphne gave him a soft smile. "I know you do, Harry. And just because you don't have someone that can help you directly doesn't mean that there's no help." She rose and collected a small stack of parchments from her work table. "I'll write my father to find out who is standing as your proxy. Until we have that, you can write to your account manager." 

She handed him one of the parchments, and he skimmed down to see it was signed by Hector Herald, the Editor of her publishing company. She explained, "I made you a copy of the letter he wrote me. You don't have to read it now; it details out the upcoming parts and timeline for preorders of the compendium." She tapped her copy of the letter. "Your account manager accepted a contract between Potter Holdings and Arbour Green. Goblins hate to be bothered without a business reason, but you have a perfect excuse to reach out. All you have to do is keep your first letter about the contract." 

Relief flushed away the rest of his frustration. "Funny how good it feels to have something I can do. Some days, it feels like the whole world knows more about me than I do." 

Hermione nodded her head, "Or at least they think they do." 

"Well," Daphne pulled another parchment from her stack. "How about we do something to give them your side of your story? I know we planned on dancing lessons this afternoon, but I feel like I was struck by a Jelly Legs Jinx after this morning. Mr. Herald sent me length requirements and points for your bio. If you're alright with it, I'd like to work on that." 

He glanced toward Hermione, "Will you help with it? I'm a little nervous about getting this right." 

She reached over to pull a shorter page from the pile. "I thought you might be so I started a bit of it. Of course, now that we know how long it should be, that will be easier." 

The page she handed him had notes and marks in the margin just like all of her early draft essays. In her neat handwriting at the top of the page, she had written: 

> Harry J. Potter, the unprecedented fourth triwizard champion, is the only son of James and Lily Potter. His parents died defending him during a brutal attack on their home when he was a toddler. He was raised with his mother's muggle family and was first introduced to the magical world at eleven when he began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

While she and Daphne discussed possible improvements the paragraph, he kept rereading the second sentence. _It fits so much better than all that nonsense people write. They died defending me. Not having them hurts, but at least that honors their sacrifice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Owl's Requiem by Jaycee Cervenka.  
> https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/owls_requiem_638798


	32. A Season for Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne spends her days learning, laughing, teaching and protecting.

Professor Burbage added to the timeline on her board while Daphne carefully drew it with her class issued biro. The names meant little to her, but the timing reminded her of something Hermione had told her during a study session for History of Magic. _Does the Muggle world really move so_ _much faster than the magical one? This certainly lends credence to it, but..._ She lifted her hand and waited patiently. 

"Yes, Miss Greengrass?" Professor Burbage encouraged her, "Do you have a question?" 

"Well, this invention of air travel by muggles seems to have advanced so quickly. The first flight occurred only 60 years before they flew to the moon! Yet, wizards spent 300 years with short range portkeys before the first international one was invented. And we've not made any credible attempts to travel to the moon despite the potential benefits to astronomical observation." She ignored the dirty looks she got from a few of the more staunch blood purists in the class. "Why is it that they advanced so quickly?" 

The professor gave a her a delighted smile. "Ten points to Slytherin for an excellent question." Her enchanted chalk drew the outer shape of the islands that make up the UK. "This is our nation, yes?" Her students dutifully nodded as blue dots appeared that covered a small section of North Scotland. "The blue represents the population of magical users according the 1991 census." Suddenly, the rest of the islands were covered with green dots. "The green represents the population of non-magical users according to the same census." 

Several students gasped in horror, but Daphne scrutinized the map, intrigued by the data. Her professor continued on, "If every dot represents a mind that works to resolve a problem, the muggles have far more minds to put toward improving, inventing and inspiring." 

While she was still examining the map, Blaise Zabini raised his hand. "Professor, if they have so much capacity, why haven't they found out about us yet?" 

"Another ten points to Slytherin," she started out her reply. "There are a lot of suggested reasons for that conundrum, including Mordicus Egg's suggestion that muggles delude themselves into disbelieving in us. However, the next logical leap from that would be to suggest that the Statute of Secrecy is unnecessary. The more credible theory is that, as compared to the few muggle minds that might stumble upon us, so many magical minds are put toward protecting us that those few that do find out are obliviated and then discredited by their own." 

"But Professor," Padma Patil was already speaking as she raised her hand. "Surely there are muggleborn family members with evidence that could prove the existence of magic?" 

"To be sure, muggle families collect just as many trinkets as magicals do. Perhaps a family member, that did not love and treasure their magical child or sibling, might bring forward those charmed items as proof of their claim." She paused for dramatic effect. "But then, the obliviators would descend, the evidence would disappear, and that person would be declared mad for all their effort. The biggest threats to the Statute of Secrecy are not single muggles, but groups of magicals that threaten muggles on a wide scale. Right now, muggles are not looking for us. However, when faced with any large scale threat, they will put forth their full capacity to defend against it." She waved her wand to erase her board. "I would suggest that you turn to page 793 of your books and read the section on Smallpox, a muggle variation of Dragon Pox." She flicked her eyes back to Padma. "And ten points to Ravenclaw for an excellent question." 

After muggle studies concluded, Daphne walked quickly towards the greenhouses. She only waved to Hermione as she knew that she had to get to Runes, but Harry moved to intercept her. 

"Mind if I walk with you?" He asked, offering her his arm. 

She smiled, "I'd be delighted." 

"I, uh, heard back from my account manager this morning." He surprised her with the news. 

"Really? That was remarkably quick!" She failed to restrain her curiosity. "What did he say?" 

"It was all about the contract, like you said it would be," he replied. "He told me that I should consider my reputation an asset and protect it accordingly. He also mentioned that the contract was very strict, and that he and I would both have to approve the final drafts at each revision." 

"Mr. Herald told me the same. Does that ease your mind about the project?" She watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

He smiled and nodded. "It does. Steelejaw seemed proud of the deal he had negotiated on behalf of Potter Holdings." He drew them to a stop. "Is that the opening I should use to ask him for more information?" 

She was pleased to be asked. "I'm hardly an expert on goblin relations, but I think you could ask him how it compares to other deals he's made on your behalf... give him a chance to brag a bit?" 

He chuckled. "Do goblins brag? I thought that was just a human flaw?" 

"I'm not sure," she told him honestly. "But it is worth a try." 

"I think I'll use my free period to write him back. I was going to work on my potions essay, but this is important." He seemed eager, and she hated to challenge it. 

"Harry, isn't this your only free period before Potions tomorrow?" She asked even though she knew the answer. 

"Yeah," he sounded disgruntled. "It does me no good to put so much time into that class though. He's made it plain that nothing I do is good enough." 

She stepped closer so she could speak quietly. On the uneven ground, they were eye to eye. "I'm not trying to defend the professor, but, when you turn in sloppy work done at the last minute, you give him an excuse to grade you harshly." Aware of the time, she offered. "Work on your essay now. After dinner, we'll meet in the library. I'll look over your essay and help you with your letter to Steelejaw, alright?" 

She saw that her offer tempted him, but he still protested. "I thought you were going to teach me to dance after dinner?" 

"Potions tonight, Dancing tomorrow?" She coaxed. 

He agreed and escorted her the rest of the way to greenhouse. Standing out of the path of the Slytherins on their way to class, he gallantly kissed her hand. "You do know that you don't have to do that every time?" She teased him. 

"Yes," he shot a mischievous look over her shoulder, "but it annoys Malfoy." 

As he turned to leave, she entered the greenhouse. Heading for Tracey, she noted the jealous sneer on Malfoy's face and the angry glare on Pansy's. "You should be more careful who you consort with, Greengrass," Draco called across his girlfriend. "You wouldn't want to dirty your family line." He slowly looked her up and down. "Perhaps, your father and mine should discuss a few prospects. The Malfoys and Greengrasses have a number of partnerships already." 

The insinuation was clear to the roomful of Slytherins, and Pansy burned with humiliation and rage. Nausea rose in her stomach, but she knew not to show weakness. "Your father has an excellent business sense. For the sake of our existing profits, I wish him good health and long life." She settled into her seat next to Tracey and took out her supplies for class. _Nothing you can say to that, is there, you little ferret?_ For the rest of class, two hostile sets of eyes scorched her but for different reasons. 

By the time Potions class began, Malfoy's less than subtle proposal and her more subtle rejection had become the talk of the fourth years. Even though the story showed her in a favorable light, being a topic of gossip made her uncomfortable. _Guess I should apologize to Hermione for not being understanding. She's handled much worse than this._

She had nearly laughed aloud though at Weasley's loud question at breakfast, "How does wishing for Lucius Malfoy to live a long time insult his git of a son?" Based on his admiring smile, she assumed someone had explained it to him. 

Draco seemed more arrogant than usual as they handed in their essays, and she saw him slip his wand back up his sleeve. With focus, she switched her Charms essay in her bag for her Potions essay on the desk. She helped Tracey set up their potion, and, as it simmered, she approached Professor Snape. 

"Yes, Miss Greengrass?" He asked in a bored tone. 

"Apologies, Professor, but I seem to have handed in the wrong essay." She held up her completed Potions essay for emphasis. 

He waved her toward the stack of parchments negligently. "Be more careful in the future, Miss Greengrass." 

Stepping to the stack of essays, she glanced surreptitiously around the room. Malfoy berated Goyle for some mistake with their potion. Parkinson sneered at Dean Thomas when he stepped too close to her. No one was looking her way. 

Daphne retrieved her charms essay and realized what Malfoy had done. Harry's essay was half blank. With her wand hand hidden by the table, she quickly cast a reversal of the vanishing charm and was relieved when his hard work returned to the page. 

Setting her Potions essay on top, she nodded respectfully to her head of house and went back to her softly bubbling cauldron. _I think this is something I'll keep to myself for now. Those Gryffindors can be terribly rash._

Her girlfriend's head rested on her shoulder as soft music played in her study room. Both girls had left dinner early for some quiet time, but they knew Harry would be joining them soon. She stroked her hand down the curve of Hermione's back and rested it on the swell of hip. She shivered when her partner responded by pressing a gentle kiss on her neck. 

"Hmm," she hummed in contentment. "You'd better not let Harry dance this close, I'd hate to hex my best friend." 

She smiled into brown curls, relieved they could tease each other about the ball. "So long as Viktor is held to the same expectations..." 

The music drifted softly away, and Hermione drew back to gaze tenderly into her eyes. Her pink lips parted softly, and Daphne tilted her head to capture them. For a few blissful moments, the world disappeared. 

They broke apart at the chiming of their alert charm. Expecting Harry, they took the time to straighten each other's hair and share longing glances. He entered the room and promptly reset their privacy charms. 

Daphne found the flush high on his cheeks terribly amusing. She repressed her laughter. _Perhaps I'm just a bit giddy._

He moved toward the dueling area and took a deep breath. "Before I bollocks this all up, I just want to say how much I appreciate everything you're teaching me. I, um, I think you're both being really good about all this." 

She sought out brown eyes and smiled. "You're Hermione's best friend. Of course we're helping you." Breaking away from her girl, she stepped toward the open space. With short swipes of her wand, she drew the basic steps on the floor. "Now, green is your right foot and blue is your left. When I light the color, put your foot on it." 

He looked over to her curiously. "Is this how you learned?" 

"Yes, my mum says this is how her dancing instructor taught her as well," she smiled at the memory. She used her wand to begin guiding his movements. 

As he went through the basic box step, Hermione grinned. "This is brilliant! My dad taught me by putting my feet on top of his, but that only worked because I was small." 

He mastered the basic movements in short order, and Daphne added a rhythm. He awkwardly moved with the beat. "Now that I know what I do, what do you do?" 

She stepped into his field of vision as he kept stepping stiffly through the steps. "As your partner, I will be doing everything that you do. But I will do it backwards." 

He barked a laugh. "Guess it's good that you've been dancing for longer... Can't see me trying this backwards." 

Hermione cued up a song on their borrowed wireless. "Maybe it will help to see what it looks like?" She extended a hand to Daphne. "Keep going through your steps while you watch." 

She took the formal posture and distance for a waltz, and they began. Hermione led, keeping the steps a simple mirror of Harry's solitary box. Her heart fluttered as she followed the simple movements. She felt suddenly awkward with their witness and stepped back. "Alright, Harry. Let's you try it." 

After a few more dances, Harry had the basic movements and asked to stop for a break. "Do you think," he asked them both, "that I look as graceless as I feel?" 

Hermione answered, "You look a bit stiff, like you're uncomfortable, but I think you'll relax with more practice." 

"I wish I could see myself, maybe I would feel less self-conscious," he shrugged. "Or maybe it would make it worse." 

"Well, when I took ballet as a little girl the studio had mirrors on one wall." She walked over to the mirror that Dobby had found for them and removed the sticking charm. "I think we could enlarge this and put it on the long wall." She pointed to the far wall of their dueling area. 

Daphne enjoyed watching them work together as Harry swished his wand to levitate the heavy mirror. Hermione stood back and directed his positioning of it until they were pleased. He engorged the glass so that it covered the wall then stuck it there. 

"That's excellent," she called admiringly as the two friends turned around. "It might help with dueling forms too." 

"Ready to try again?" Hermione held out her hand in invitation. 

He bowed over her hand as the music started a new song. They moved into the steps in unison at first, but Harry kept trying to watch himself in the mirror. After the third time he crushed her toes, his partner called an end to the experiment. 

"I'm so sorry!" He apologized profusely as they stepped apart. Hermione waved away his apology, but he glared at himself in the mirror. "I think that actually made it worse!" 

Daphne darkened the mirror and set her wand down on the work table. "I think you're right. Do either of you have a camera? Maybe that would work better?" 

"Colin Creevey has one, but it's a muggle type." He leaned back against the glass sullenly. "Maybe we should just stop for tonight." 

She started to argue but stopped herself. _A break might be good for all of us. We have time to practice before the ball._ "How about we ask Dobby if he'll bring us snacks? All that dancing has made me a bit hungry." 

Harry rewarded her with a half-smile. "That sounds good. Thanks." 

When called, Dobby appeared with a tray of hot chocolate and some biscotti that was heavily studded with nuts and dried fruit. Winky followed after him with a small tray of sliced fruit. She looking curiously around the room. "Yous has such pretty music playing," she told them wistfully. "Mistress always loved music." 

Daphne knew that Mrs. Crouch had died years ago; her heart panged in pity for the grieving elf. "My mum sent my wireless from home. I keep it in here most of the time. You're welcome to come and listen to it." 

"Yous is kind to Winky," she whispered. Her bulbous eyes teared up, but she stayed in the room. _Perhaps the little dear is doing better. I hope so. She didn't deserve such cruelty._

The elves accepted an invitation to sit with them, and Hermione asked, "What have you been working on today?" 

"Dobby spent after breakfast helping to fix school brooms! Dobby likes fixing things." He happily told them. Looking to his friend, he said, "Winky helped with altering robes for growing ones. Winky good at lengthening and repairing charms." 

Her ears drooped in embarrassment, but she smiled slightly. "Little ones grows fast. They's grateful for help." 

Harry grinned at them both. "I think you're both fantastically talented! And these biscotti things are amazing." 

Shyly, Winky volunteered, "Hogwarts elves traded with Beauxbaton elves for recipes. Wes learning all sorts of new foods to cook." 

"Dobby is wondering," he asked, staring at the far wall, "Why is there dark mirror?" 

She smiled at him. "We thought the mirror would help Harry learn to dance, but it just made things worse." 

"Yous learning to dance? Cans we see?" Though Dobby asked the question, Winky's ears perked up in interest. 

Wanting to please the sweet elf, Daphne rose from her seat. Harry followed her to the dueling area and took her hand. At the start of a new song, they moved into position. He held himself straight and counted out his steps under his breath. 

From the sitting area, they heard a squeaky laugh. Winky called, "Yous seems so scared, Master Harry! Is Missy Daphne yous dancing with, not one of Mister Hagrid's blasty bugs!" 

She giggled at the vision of him dancing with a blast-ended skrewt. "I don't think any of Hagrid's creatures would make good waltzing partners! Can you imagine dancing with a flobber worm?" 

He laughed and finally started to relax into the steps. "No! And not just because they have no legs!" 

"Perhaps you could teach a hippogriff to dance?" She teased. "You did seem to have a way with them." 

"I think I would have to let them lead!" His eyes danced and his whole face brightened. "I can't see one doing all this backwards." 

Hermione called from the sitting area, "I can't imagine them dancing at all! Surely, such a thing would be beneath their dignity." 

The teens bantered and joked their way through a few more dances. Winky bobbed her ears to the beat of the music. They lingered together until curfew was imminent. Even then, Daphne hummed a song to herself as she returned to the dungeons for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title inspired by Ecclesiastes 3:1-8  
> https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ecclesiastes%203&version=NIV


	33. Formerly Derelict of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augusta Longbottom meets with Dumbledore and moves to become a more active influence in Harry's life.

A stream of plum garbed people flowed from the Wizengamot chamber. Murmurs echoed down the hall of the ministry as members discussed the various issues remaining on the high court's agenda for this last session of the year. _No one really believes this tax will pass, so there's little consequence for people like Nott and Bulstrode to trade favors for their vote on one side or the other._ Augusta merely waved or nodded in acknowledgement of those that wanted her attention. 

The director of this latest anti-werewolf farce stepped directly in her path. "Madame Longbottom," she began. "I would like a word with you." 

"Madame Undersecretary, I have an engagement." She attempted to brush past the perpetually smug looking woman. 

She twisted to block her path again. "It will only take a moment," she kept her voice down, but the interplay drew attention anyway. 

Augusta carefully held in her impatience. _It won't do for a rumor of a rift between House Longbottom and the Ministry to start over this witch's ego._ "Sadly, it is a moment that I do not have. Please owl me and we will find time for lunch." She smiled stiffly and swerved around her with a nimble move that belied her age. 

She quickly stepped through the archway that led to the Chief Wizard's office. As she briskly walked away, the sounds of political wrangling and gossip fell away behind her. The half open door of Albus's office loomed. With a deep breath, she knocked and promptly entered the space. 

"Augusta," her husband's old friend greeted her warmly. "I was pleased to see that my lunchtime appointment was with you." He stepped around his modest wooden desk toward the small sitting area. 

Runes around the door frame lit up without a sign of his wand. She took the seat he indicated knowing that the spells in place would ensure their privacy. "Albus, I have a number of things to speak of with you. Would you like to call for a light lunch so that we can begin?" 

"Of course," he was unperturbed by her brisk tone. "Sandwiches alright?" 

When she nodded, he called for a house elf and made their request. Once the creature popped away, he asked her, "As delighted as I always am to see you, surely a formal appointment was unnecessary. I would have made time for you." 

She gave an indelicate snort at that. "Albus, I requested this meeting the day after Samhain, and this was the earliest appointment you had available. I hardly see how you make time to sleep much less would have made time for this conversation." 

"After Samhain?" He immediately understood the significance. "Is this about the tournament, then?" 

She nodded. "I am here in my capacity as proxy to the House of Potter to express concern about the ministry's failure to invalidate the selection of the Goblet of Fire after obvious interference." 

"I share your concern, of course," he told her solemnly. "Bartimus's failure to invalidate the selection was a surprise to me as well. I am further dismayed to note that he has been largely absent from events and appointments in recent weeks." 

"I have noticed that as well. Even his correspondence is delayed in a way that is very unlike him." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Do you suspect he is hiding an illness? Or something more sinister?" 

"My suspicions are only that, and best kept to myself for now." He steepled his fingers before him. "So far, young Harry is faring well in the tournament and proving himself ever adaptable." 

She leaned forward as a tray appeared and served herself half a sandwich. "Yet it is my understanding that his coach is a student from his own year? Surely it would be appropriate to request that he be tutored by a few of the seventh years, at least?" 

He was already shaking his head. "The injunctions against staff assisting the champions are clear and stated in the contract. Any students assisting him would need to do it of their own will, and, prior to his outstanding performance in the first task, few students were inclined to do so." 

"Well, I'm not a member of your staff." She said flatly. "Neville will be at Hogwarts over Yule, and I will suggest that he include Harry in the lessons I arrange for him." With a pain in her heart, she confessed, "Alice and Lily meant those boys to grow up as brothers. I've never admitted to her that I failed to honor that." 

His face softened with sadness. "Would Alice really understand you, Augusta?" 

"It doesn't matter," she told him bitterly. "It was the one thing she could focus on in her grief over Lily. Getting custody of her godson... raising him as her own..." She sounded brittle with her anger at herself. "And I failed her." 

"Augusta," he leaned forward to catch her hand. "We both feel our failures deeply in this loss. I agreed with Frank and Alice that the danger had passed with Voldemort. I thought they would be safe enough under the Longbottom house wards." He squeezed her hand consolingly before he leaned back. He avoided her eyes as he asked. "Do you blame me for losing Harry?" 

"No," she told him, granting him the absolution he sought. "You were right. Had I pressed my custodial suit, Narcissa and Arcturus would have done the same. The boy would have become a quaffle for the Wizengamot, and we didn't have the votes to win that match." 

"I know that becoming proxy for his house seat was poor consolation," he said softly. 

"I do not see it as consolation, Albus," she admitted. "I see it as my penance for failing my Alice, and a duty to the memory of Fleamont and Euphemia." 

"And yet you rarely speak from the seat?" He was plainly confused. 

She sighed, "Unfortunately, I did not know Fleamont as well as my husband did. Despite all the years we were neighbors, I was much closer to Euphemia." She smiled wistfully. "Lily knew him better than most. They were often closeted together in the months before his death. I assume that he intended her to take the seat since James made it clear he was uninterested." 

"A muggleborn witch speaking from a hereditary seat?" He smiled at the vision. "That seems quite in line with Fleamont's sense of humor." 

"Lily would have been brilliant in that seat." She remembered the clever young woman with sad fondness. "But it was not to be, like so many of her and Alice's dreams." 

The two old friends drifted in their own memories while their lunch sat ignored between them. After a few moments, Albus blinked away what might have been tears. Gently, he asked, "Augusta? What do you need from me?" 

She stilled her memories and forced her mind back to the present. "When I initially scheduled this meeting, I intended to demand that you immediately investigate Bartemus's and thereby the Ministry's failure to defend the tournament rules as set up when we agreed to bring it back. However, I have rethought that approach." She met his eyes sharply. "With your approval, I will approach Amelia Bones to pull together the information for a broader inquiry. Then we can address it after we get Harry through this ridiculous contest. Additionally, Algie has been tutoring Neville each Yule. I will need you to arrange a portkey and space for him at Hogwarts. He has agreed to work with Harry and Neville on mental orientation and compulsive defense." 

"Surely that should be Alastor's responsibility?" He asked hesitantly. 

"Albus," she started. "I know you have great faith in Alastor Moody, but I had my doubts about him as Defense Professor. He was supposed to be a source of additional eyes and security during the tournament, but he has failed to live up to that promise." She paused and pulled back from her staunch criticism. "He is a good man, but when my Frank was his student, he nearly quit the auror program when he couldn't throw off an imperius. Alastor taught him as he had been taught, but that brute force method wasn't working for him. Honestly, it works for very few." 

"Breaking an imperius is a rare skill, Augusta, even among the Aurors." His patient tone grated on her. 

"I understand that, Albus, and reminded Frank of it at the time. But Algie took my Frank aside and began working with him. It took months, but eventually, Frank could shrug off an imperius in less than 10 minutes." She let herself feel sad pride in her son. "The boys are young, of course, but lesser compulsory magics can be just as dangerous and are much more common." 

He gave her a secretive smile and nodded. "I'll provide you with a letter for Madame Bones and a portkey for Algie. Minerva will arrange for a space for them to work." 

"Thank you Albus," she leaned forward to take another section of sandwich. "Now, what do you make of Umbridge's doomed Wolfsbane tax?" 

  
"I think that Dolores is more cunning than I had expected. Given the successful passage of other anti-werewolf legislation, the failure of this tax will be seen as members of the Wizengamot with interests in commercial potions protecting their revenue." He sighed deeply. "When a broader tax is proposed, the Wizengamot will be heavily criticized. There will be more pressure on its members to pass whatever bigoted legislation she wants." 

Her throat closed in disgust, and she set aside the rest of her sandwich. "I think we will find it difficult to hold the line against her and the other blood purists, if you're right." 

Diagon Alley bustled for a Tuesday morning as Augusta stepped from the apparition point. Witches stepped into and out of stores with small children in tow. Wizards marched firmly ahead to Gringotts or other appointments. In the large window of Flourish and Blotts, an advertisement flashed: 

**Preorder the Complete Compendium of the Revived Triwizard Tournament! 1** **st** **Revision Ships in Time for Yule!**

She walked briskly past the busy shops, and stepped into the warm shadows of the café. "Madame Longbottom," the owner's son greeted her warmly. "Your guest is waiting. I took the liberty of serving coffee and tea already." 

She smiled at the courteous young man. "Thank you, Reginald." She tucked her favorite handbag under one arm. "Will you see me back?" 

It was a short walk through the café to the private room she often reserved. Over the years, she found it easier to address business here rather than in her home. She stepped through the door to find Cyrus Greengrass relaxed and sipping from a plain mug. "Good morning, Head Greengrass. I'm glad to see that you made yourself comfortable." 

He stood and bowed over the hand she offered. "Good morning, Madame Longbottom. I appreciate you making time to meet me this morning." 

"How could I decline such an intriguing request?" She asked him as she sat. "Your letter referenced a number of topics and business opportunities, but you gave no tangible details." 

"I assure you that I was intending to be discrete rather than mysterious," he told her as leaned forward to pour himself more coffee. "With discretion in mind, will you allow me to cast a few privacy charms for our discussion?" 

She nodded her assent and tried to decide if he was simply paranoid or had something truly confidential to say. His casting was smooth and practiced. She watched him carefully but saw only standard privacy charms being set. "You seem quite adept at that. Should I be concerned?" 

He laughed at her question. "You may think me overcautious, but I've no desire to see our business splashed on the front page of the Daily Prophet." 

She sniffed derisively at mention of that rag. "I never imagined a day when the founding families of that paper would be setting magic to avoid its reporters." 

"And that is something I hope we can discuss as well, but first, I would like to confess that my interests today are both business and personal," He spoke in a low tone that set her on edge. 

"I am willing to listen to both, but I must remind you that the Longbottoms, like the Prewetts, do not typically betroth our children before they finish Hogwarts." She tried to keep her tone neutral; it would not do to offend him so early in the discussion. 

He grinned charismatically. "I am well aware of your family tradition, and, while I hear good things of your grandson, I would not attempt to dissuade you from continuing it. The Longbottoms have chosen their own partners for generations, and it seems to have served the family quite well." 

"Glad to hear it," she told him briskly, ignoring the oblique compliment. "What, then, is the personal interest that you wish to discuss?" 

"House Longbottom and House Potter have been friends, allies and neighbors for three centuries." He seemed to have decided to match her no nonsense demeanor. "Heir Potter has taken quite the interest in my daughter and heir. It's an interest she reciprocates." 

She failed to hold in her smirk. "Yes, I saw the Daily Prophet. It seems they are setting themselves up for a fairy tale." 

"You may think me an overprotective father, but I hoped that you would give me your impression of the boy. You have a reputation as an excellent judge of character." Something in his manner as he sipped his coffee made her wonder, _Is there more to this question than a father vetting his daughter's romantic interest?_

"I don't know the boy personally, but he and my Neville are housemates. Neville says he's friendly and talented but a bit rash." She held back the things her grandson slipped about him being influenced away from his school work by the youngest Weasley. 

"You don't know the boy personally? Wouldn't he have been raised next door to you?" He raised his brows at the revelation. 

"Hallow house was never fully rebuilt. When the damage occurred, Fleamont and Euphemia were already in St. Mungos with the dragon pox that would take them." She flicked her gaze down in sadness. "James and Lily were working to rebuild the house, but they had their heart set on some improvements. Of course, they went into hiding before the work could be completed." She deliberately drilled him with a direct gaze. "You could easily have found out that the boy was not in residence at his family home. What are you after?" 

"Obviously your formidable reputation is well earned..." He leaned back in his chair and met her eyes. "Last week, my daughter wrote me to ask who held the proxy for the Potter seat in the Wizengamot. I found the question particularly curious as our publishing company had to contract with Potter Holdings rather than House Potter to include Heir Potter in our book on the Tournament." She held silent, and he continued. "I used our Wizengamot session last week as opportunity to observe and research. What I found was enlightening." 

"And what do you think was enlightening?" She asked him severely. 

"You hold the proxy for both House Longbottom and House Potter, but you only use your Longbottom seat for questions and debate. For House Potter, you only vote; you do not speak." He paused to sip his coffee. "You know what other seat has the same situation? House Black." 

"This is all a matter of record. I hardly see what you think you have uncovered." She blustered a bit, but he was unperturbed. 

"It is a small and subtle part of a very thick record, but I find it curious that the custodial petitions of House Longbottom and House Black were both withdrawn within hours of being submitted. And subsequently, the boy disappeared so thoroughly from the wizarding world that no one even attempted to defend him from the fraud related to those children's books." He waited a moment for her to speak, but she only glared at him. "Now, I find out that Heir Potter knows nothing of his legacy, and his guardian is either unwilling or unable to advocate for him. So tell me Madame Longbottom, which is it? Unwilling or unable?" 

"It is common knowledge that the boy lives with his mother's family. Given Black's betrayal and my Alice's injury, it was the best option for him. There is no grand conspiracy here." She kept her voice firm, but she wondered if she believed her own words. 

"Perhaps not," he murmured. "But that is only one part of my concern and one I am still thinking through." His manner became more confident. "To other matters, my own experience with taking over business from my father after Hogwarts was profoundly educational. Many of the contracts that I take up now will be executed under Daphne's leadership. Would you expect the same of Longbottom Holdings?" 

"I have been training Neville to take over the nurseries first; it is his deepest interest." She was glad to have a topic she could discuss openly. "Later, he will become more involved in the import/export and materials distribution companies." 

"I was hoping to hear that." He dropped his interrogating demeanor. "Grass Potioneers has negotiated a broad and long term contract for medicinal potions to St. Mungos and affiliated hospitals. Our current contract with Malfoy Nurseries does not provide sufficient ingredients to meet this need." 

She took the parchment he passed her. "This is quite extensive." The list encompassed both highly specialized and standard potion ingredients. "You are looking for delivery at these quantities each month?" She calculated the growth rates of their current greenhouses and realized that this contract would consume the entirety of their recent expansion. 

"Is that possible?" He asked her cautiously. 

She nodded. "Yes, it's possible." She looked at him over the page. "Why not go through Malfoy Nurseries? Surely your existing relationships could withstand the expansion, and their prices are generally a bit lower." 

"Their prices are lower in line with their quality." He sighed. "It's appropriate for our commercial lines, but medical grade potions are something different. I've spent 8 months negotiating with the healers and hospital administrators. If this contract goes well in the first two years, they will extend it for 10 years more." He failed to remain casual as he commented, "And both of my daughters speak well of your grandson." 

She smiled proudly at the compliment to Neville, but his implication about Heir Malfoy was clear. "You expect that Daphne will be working more with Grass Potioneers after graduation? I thought that she was more interested in your publishing interests?" 

It was his turn to smile proudly. "That is her first love, yes, but she also has quite a talent for Potions. It will serve her well as a second responsibility." 

She arched a brow at that. "Greengrass Holdings is diverse. Do you expect that she will be running the entirety of the business interests at some point?" He would be within his right to refuse to answer, but the contract he proposed would heavily entangle their businesses and families. 

"No more than I do," he reassured. "My sister and brother-in-law are instrumental in our success as is the Davies family." 

Satisfied, she told him, "Send over a proposal, and we can begin working on the contract." 

"Excellent!" Obviously pleased, he reached to pour himself the last of the coffee. "Before we get far with that, I have one other concern that I wish to collaborate with you on. You implied displeasure with the current direction of The Prophet?" 

"If all I felt were displeasure, then it would be a vast improvement!" She replied. 

He chuckled at her response. "Then perhaps, between the Greengrass and Longbottom stakes we can influence some changes on the editorial board?" 

She pursed her lips in consideration. _Tempting thought to bring those toadying profit mongers to heel, but we're only two of the founding families._ "If two founder stakes could really break Malfoy and the Ministry's grip on the coverage, it would have already happened. You have something else in mind?" 

"The contract between Potter Holdings and Arbour Green specifically points out the marketing value of Harry Potter's reputation." He gave her a mischievous grin. "That will incentivize Manager Steelejaw to bring the Potter stake in The Prophet to bear against the character assassination Ms. Skeeter is famous for. Between that and our cooperation, we ought to be able to break the stalemate on the editorial board." 

A genuine laugh bubbled up from her throat. "Head Greengrass, I think I like you!" 

It was nearly sunset when Augusta stepped out onto her second floor balcony. Her bones ached with fatigue, but she was pleased with everything she had accomplished that day. She glanced toward Hallow House, wallowing in her memories. 

The mist that overhung the structure hid the damage, but she could see it in her mind's eye from the day she had walked through with what was left of the Potter family. _The east wall cracked and shedding the facade. Windows broken by flying debris. The side door that was always used by the Longbottom family hanging half off its hinges. Lily's red hair blowing in the wind made truly striking by the anger in her vibrant green eyes._

Grief struck her fresh as it often did on days when she went to see Alice and Frank. _I feel like a fool to admit that it wasn't only our children that had such dreams. We dreamed of a day when the war would be over, and Potter and Longbottom children would once again play in the gardens._ Instead, Lily and James lay buried in Godric's Hollow while her son and lovely daughter-in-law would never recover. 

A lonely tear trickled down her cheek. With no one else to see her, she let her failures weigh her down, and her shoulders slumped. Her anguish had tempered with time even though she often felt guilt over it. _Would Alice and Frank understand that I no longer sob over the space where we found them lying after the attack? Would they forgive the times that I let my temper boil over with Neville? Will I ever truly accept that I will never know?_

She ignored the glory of the sunset beyond Hallow House though she saw the reflection of golden rays in the fog. An optical illusion even suggested that the roof was intact despite her knowing otherwise. As the last of the light faded away, she pulled her pain back in, wrapping it up for safe keeping like a tarnished treasure. With a last indulgence before she went to attend her correspondence, she pulled out her wand. Long practice aimed for her as she cast a preservation charm on a lonely treehouse that straddled the Potter/Longbottom property line. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No poetry reference this time. I kept my working title.


	34. Lessons in Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Harry learn together.

Neville could hear Ron complaining about lessons after the end of term, but Harry diffused the budding argument by offering his broom for practice. The boy was mollified by that and the promise of a chess game later in the common room. He smirked a little to hear Dean and Seamus lament that they had hoped to ask Harry for the loan of his broom. 

For all their sakes, he hoped someone else would get a proper racing broom for Christmas. Harry was known for being generous with his things, but Neville recognized that much of it was his discomfort declining requests. _Don't know how people will react when Harry actually learns to tell them no... Probably about like they will if I ever do._

He grabbed his father's wand and started down the stairs. "Morning, Harry!" He called to his roommate. "Ready to go meet Uncle Algie?" 

"Yeah, alright," he nodded and followed him out of the common room. "I really appreciate you inviting me along to the this, Neville." 

He flushed at the gratitude. "Honestly, it was my gran's idea." He stumbled in horror at how that sounded. "Not that I...blast!" He started over. "I'm glad to have you here, but I wouldn't have thought to invite you if my gran hadn't suggested it. I... uh... I dunno if you know but, my mum was your godmum... and your mum was mine." He watched his own feet shuffle as they walked along the corridor. 

"No, I..." Harry trailed off. "Neville," he said in a louder tone. 

He looked nervously at his roommate. "Yeah, Harry?" 

"For our mum's to make each other our god-mums, that means they were close, right?" He asked carefully. 

"Yeah, Harry," he replied softly. "They must have been really close." 

"I don't know much about my mum," he admitted as they walked along. "Most people talk about how much I remind them of my dad." 

He stopped in the hall. "I hear a lot about my dad too. My gran... she loved my mum, but Dad was her only child." 

"So I guess you know how I feel..." He didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry." 

"Me too," Neville whispered. They walked the rest of the way in silence. 

Uncle Algie looked as unusual as ever in his pleated black pants and lemon yellow shirt. He eschewed the conservative wizard's robes that most men his age insisted on. Instead, he always wore muggle slacks. Even on formal occasions, he preferred the more comfortable garb. 

"Good day, Neville!" He called out jovially. 

He smiled at the older man. "Good day, Uncle Algie. I'd like you to meet my friend, Harry Potter." 

Harry held out his hand politely but seemed uncomfortable as he often did around new people. "Hello, sir. Thank you for agreeing to include me in Neville's lessons." 

The affable old man shook his hand warmly and set about putting Harry at ease. "I'm glad to do it, very glad!" He clasped Harry on the shoulder. "It seems only fair to teach you these lessons in particular. After all it was your great grandfather that taught them to me." 

His eyes went wide along with his friend's. "Really? I don't know much of anything about my grandparents." 

"Not too many that are old enough to remember them I suppose. What does that say about old Uncle Algie?" His laugh invited them to join in. 

He ushered them further into the shadowed room as he continued. "In our sixth year at Hogwarts, your grandfather, Fleamont, and I both made absolute fools of ourselves for the same witch, Euphemia. I would lie to you and say that your grandfather won the day, but Euphemia was always a woman that knew her own mind." He grinned at the boys. "She marched up to the both of us one day and said she had had enough. We were to end our foolish competition as she had no intention of pursuing romantic entanglements until she had completed her runes mastery." 

He waved them towards the cluster of chairs and sat down. "So we took her at her word and went back to being friends. Your grandfather got a potions mastery; I married my Enid. A few years later, they were working on a project together. Something hush hush at the Department of Mysteries. They married a few months later." 

Neville smiled at his uncle. _One day I hope that I can make people comfortable so easily._ "What about the lessons with Harry's great-grandfather?" 

"Well," he started. "'Round about my NEWT year, there was a book that came out claiming to teach people how to negotiate business deals. What it really was though was a collection of confounding and compulsion charms as well as some recipes for coercive potions that absorbed by touch." 

"That can't be legal!" Harry sounded shocked. 

"Borderline, really. There was effort made to hide the intent, of course. The author hid the real meat of his methods behind some nonsense about confidence and charisma, but the Wizengamot launched an investigation when Druella Rosier sold a set of heirloom fire opals to some Irish half-blood." He shook his head apparently bemused. "Don't remember what happened to the jewels or the swindler, but my father and Fleamont's insisted on us learning anti-compulsion magics. It's Henry Potter's personal methods that I'll be teaching you both." 

His friend and roommate smiled shyly, obviously pleased at the connection to his family. "I really do appreciate it." 

The old man huffed a bit, "You might sing a different tune when I tell you that you'll have to work at it. I know some are naturally talented at breaking coercive curses, even the Imperius, but that requires repeat exposure even then." 

Hesitantly, he spoke up. "Professor Moody cast the Imperius on us in class. Harry was the only one to come close to resisting it." 

"He cast that on a group of fourth years?!" The man was plainly horrified. "I know the man is rumored to be mad, but that is more than lunacy!" Both boys froze as Uncle Algie ranted a moment longer. When he finally calmed, he told them. "What I'm going to teach can help you learn to resist the Imperius, but it can also help you keep your head on in the face of other situations and magics. And I don't have to muddle your mind to do it!" 

"That sounds good, sir," Harry said with relief in his voice. 

"Algie..." He corrected him. "Or Uncle Algie, if you prefer. Had Alice had her way, that's what you'd have grown up calling me." 

Neville drew a breath to ask about that revelation but was cut off. "Boys, I could consume your entire holiday with stories about your family. While that might make us all happy, you won't learn what you need. How about I bring an album from your parents' wedding tomorrow? Neville's seen some of the photos, but this is one my Enid put together. We'll work on lessons first part of the morning, and I'll muddle your mind with stories the second part." 

He knew better than to argue or wheedle with his great uncle once his mind was made up. "Thank you, sir. That sounds wonderful." 

"Excellent!" He gave them no more time to argue. "Now, I want you to imagine that your mind is a sovereign territory. In order to defend against invaders, you have to recognize them. For you to do that, you have to know your own borders." He leaned forward, "You have to know your own mind, in order to keep people from changing it." 

He let his voice echo into silence before he continued. "What I'm going to teach you first is a technique you have to practice. Some people might say to do this before bed, but, me... when I'm ready for bed, I'm ready to sleep. So, I want you to practice this every morning as you dress for the day and every night as you dress for bed." 

"Is there anything special we need to do or have?" Harry sounded uncertain. "We share showers and dorms... the other boys might find it peculiar." 

"Defensive magics of the mind don't need a special incantation or wand movement. You'll just be in your own head for this part." He reassured them. When the boys nodded, he continued. "The first thing I need you to do, is think of one character trait that you have. Something that is integral to who you are and how you act. Harry? Thoughts?" 

"I'm a Gryffindor so I guess, bravery?" He sounded thoughtful, like he was sure there was more to it. 

Uncle Algie accepted that answer. "That's a good place to start and one that fits you both, so let's start there." 

To his uncle's side a quill scratched out "I am brave so I - " and hovered in anticipation. 

Neville regarded it for a moment and finished the thought, "I am brave so I do the right thing even when it frightens me." 

His cheeks warmed with embarrassment and his mind went blank when his uncle asked him, "Can you tell me a time when that was true? What did you do? How did you act?" 

He gaped like a fish, but Harry quickly rescued him. "How about last week when you rescued Dennis Creevey from Malfoy and his goons?" Without waiting for an answer, he started the tale. "Dennis is a first year muggle born in Gryffindor. He always writes in this little notebook that he takes with him everywhere. So, the other day, Draco Malfoy – he's a Slytherin in our year. - steals his notebook and has Crabbe and Goyle, his goons, hold Dennis over the second floor railing to the Entrance Hall while he reads the book." 

Still embarrassed, he picked up the story. "I sent another first year after Professor McGonagall and set a cushioning charm on the stones in case he fell. Then I just, I dunno... I didn't think about being brave so much as I got mad at them for what they were doing." 

He looked at his friend helplessly, and he picked up the story. "To hear Dennis tell it, Neville goes charging up the stairs like Ares, shouting at them to stop. He catches Crabbe with a body bind that makes him fall backward with Dennis. Then he shoots this crazy string of stingers that made Malfoy's hands swell up all red." 

Before Algie could congratulate him, he admitted, "Goyle broke my nose for it, but Madame Pomphrey fixed it pretty quick." 

"Good, that's excellent!" He sent him a conspiratorial wink. "Think I'll save that story to tell your Gran if you don't mind?" He looked to Harry. "Think you can come up with a time when you did the right thing despite being scared?" 

His friend nodded but pressed his lips together in discomfort. "I can, but maybe I'd rather keep the story to myself?" 

"That's fine, it doesn't matter if I know it. What matters is that it fits that characteristic and you feel it." He grinned. "So what you're going to do, each morning and each night is say to yourself, 'I am brave so I do the right thing even when it frightens me,' and while you say it, envision yourself doing it!" 

He cast a quick tempus and seemed pleased with the time. "That was nicely done, boys. I was older than you when I learned this so I wasn't sure how much time we would need. Let's come up with three more, then we'll stop for the morning." 

His stomach growled the next morning as he stood in from of the mirror. Despite his hunger, Neville forced himself to focus on visualizing himself encouraging Parvati over her herbology grade. Under his breath, he whispered. "I encourage others to see the best in themselves."

"Sorry, Neville, did you say something?" Dennis asked him from the next sink. 

"Just a reminder to myself, Dennis," he told the boy. 

From his other side, he heard Harry whisper, "I am hard working, so I push through even when something is hard or hurts." 

He grinned at the warmth he got from sharing his lessons with him. He knew that Harry would take a few minutes more so he returned to their dorm and the sounds of snoring. To his amusement, Ron was standing next to Seamus's bed with a quizzical expression. 

"I thought you said I snore like stuffed up hippo? You sure it's me you're hearing?" He pointed at the closed curtains for emphasis. 

"Ron," he stepped around him to his own bunk. "I sleep with Seamus on one side and you on the other. You both snore so loud and long an army could parade in here without being heard over you." 

"Hmm," he shrugged. "Well next time this one starts in on me, I'll get him for sure. The twins always give me pranks for Christmas. I'm going to save a few just for him." 

He rolled his eyes. "So long as you don't make it any worse! And any prank war you start had better stay between you." 

He grabbed the catalog his Aunt Enid had sent him and packed it with the rest of his morning items. "Ron," he started with mischief in his heart, "What's Ginny's favorite color?" 

"White," he answered automatically before he got suspicious. "Why'd you want to know?" 

"Seems like I ought to get my Yule date something for Christmas, is all." He said it as casually as he could and was rewarded when Ron turned flushed red. 

"You mean after I warned off four other blokes, you went and asked my sister to the ball?" He sounded horrified. 

Neville smothered his laughter and told him honestly, "I asked her before you warned anyone off. Anyone had actually asked her, she'd have told them she already had a date." 

Ron was still sputtering as he walked from their room. He intercepted Harry on the way, and they went down to the common room together. "What's so funny, Nev?" 

His grin broke across his face. "I finally told Ron that Ginny and I are going to the ball together. He honestly thought he'd gotten away with warning people off her." 

"Psst!" Harry's derisive noise caught the attention of a few other students on their way out of the common room. "This from the boy that tried to hide behind Hermione last time she got in a full temper. He ought to know better than anyone that she'd have made him regret it if he chased off someone she was interested in." 

He finally laughed out loud at the vision of the taller redhead hiding behind his best female friend. "That was hilarious though! Especially when Gin just aimed around Hermione to hex him." 

"Lucky for you," Harry said as they stepped past the portrait entrance, "that she doesn't get angry often." 

He shook his head. "I may not be top in our class, but I can figure out how to avoid irritating Ginny. Her brothers have given me plenty of examples of what not to do!" 

They stepped into the Great Hall and found their way to the Gryffindor table. As Harry served himself a plate, Neville pulled his catalog out. He saw Ginny sitting at the Ravenclaw with her friend Luna so he flipped it open. "I'm trying to decide what to get Gin for Christmas. What would think of this? Enchanted ribbon for her hair?" 

He leaned over and pointed out the pretty option. "Enchanted? What does it do?" 

"I think it keeps the style in place." He skimmed down the small print details. "Yeah, it says it holds the hair in place in winds up to 25 kilometers per hour. That's a good gift, right?" 

His friend mussed his own disheveled hair in humor. "Anything that keeps hair in place seems like a miracle to me!" 

Pleased, he pulled out in his self-inking quill and marked the order form. "What are you getting Daphne?" 

"Quill and parchment set." He flushed a little. "Remus is helping me get a few things so that I have more options." 

He arched his brows in surprise. "You do know that's a traditional courtship gift?" 

"Yeah," he looked embarrassed. "Remus told me, but it's something that I know that she'll use." 

Neville shrugged. "Not too many people go with the old courtship gifts these days, but most of them are rather practical." 

"Do you mind, Neville, if I borrow your catalog?" He had flipped to the back with a self-sizing men's dress shirt that was listed as indestructible. "It doesn't make sense to have Remus get his own Christmas gift from me." 

Happy to have a way to help, he pulled out his dad's wand and duplicated the catalog and order form. "Glad to share it! I'm hoping to get the rest of my presents picked out today. If you get your items picked, do you think Hedwig would mind taking both forms?" 

"I think she'll be glad for the exercise," he replied. The two boys chatted about gift options in the book for another few moments until an agitation at the Slytherin table caught their attention. 

Neville recognized Astoria Greengrass as she sprang to her feet. She cast a shield in front of one the Slytherin girls in her year. Pumpkin juice splashed harmlessly to the floor. Her voice rang out coldly across the hall. "What were you thinking?" 

Malfoy stepped over to the budding altercation. "Now Astoria, I'm sure it was only an accident. Wasn't it, Pansy?" 

Her reply was too quiet to hear. Harry stood from the table. "I'll have to meet you at our lesson, Nev." 

"Alright Harry, just don't make anything worse," he cautioned him nervously. _Malfoy would love nothing more than to get you in trouble..._

"I won't," he reassured him as he made his way over. 

The tense confrontation passed as quickly as it started. By the time Harry stood talking to the younger Slytherin girls, Malfoy had lead his girlfriend to the far side of the table where she sat whispering with Millicent Bulstrode. Neville turned back to his breakfast, but the tension in him and the hall destroyed his appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No poetry reference for today. I used my working chapter title. 
> 
> I hope that everyone is staying safe and well.


	35. Breaking Tension with Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne expands her influence and circles.

Professor Snape loomed ominously over Parkinson. "You have embarrassed this House. In doing so, you failed to meet the only expectation I ever set." He snarled his words at her as she stood still and passive. "Your public attack on a fellow house member showed neither cunning or ambition. Instead, it showed your idiocy and impetuousness. You are a disgrace to the colors you wear, and it is only out of respect for your father that I did not have you sent home for the rest of the holiday." 

She gasped at the threat. "You can't make me miss the ball over some mouthy mudblood!" Her cheeks flushed and her hands shook with her anger. 

"I do not care what justification you had," he hissed at her. "You openly attacked another member of this house with a bloody goblet of juice! You're a foolish impulsive child with no concept of repercussions." Spittle flew from his lips as he berated her. "I would have expected the only daughter of a politician like your father to know that everything you do reflects on your house." He stood straight and glared down his nose at her. "You will spend detention with Argus Filch tomorrow and Thursday. After the ball, your father will floo to the school to collect you. He assures me that he intends to reinforce your lessons before next term." 

He turned his attention to Astoria, clearly not expecting any further reply from Parkinson. "Miss Greengrass, 10 points for quick reflexes and a well cast shield charm." He spared the victim of the attack no attention as he spun on his heel and left the common room. 

The rest of the attending Slytherins stood in silence. Before this term, they had never seen their head of house so furious, but it was becoming more common after the attack on Tracey's cousin. The man took mediating on their behalf within the school in stride. However, diffusing and hushing an international incident had taken much of his limited political capital and patience. 

After a few breaths, the shock of her semi-public lambasting wore off, and Pansy turned rage filled eyes on their house's only muggle born student. The object of her ire stood still and pale. She was already small for a third year, but next to the unusually tall Astoria, she seemed barely old enough for Hogwarts. 

Daphne kept her wand ready at her side as Parkinson stepped menacingly close to her sister's friend. She made a clearing sound in her throat and spit in the younger girl's face. Without another word, she whirled about and stormed from the room. 

The other students began milling about the common room again. Satisfied that the volatile situation had eased, she put her wand away and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. The younger girl remained frozen in her spot, and Daphne stepped forward to gently wipe her face clean. She carefully studied her face as she did so. _It's never easy for a muggle-born Slytherin, but you've had the worst of it lately._ She was proud to see that her eyes were dry despite the indignities she suffered. "You're a clever one, Sarah," she told her gently as she folded her handkerchief in the configuration that would vanish its contents. "You know that your heritage will always be enough to enrage some among us." 

The girl nodded reluctantly in response and Daphne continued. "The fact that you are top in your year only makes that harder for those people to bear." She patted her shoulder encouragingly. "Your ambition has made you credit to this house, but you need to work on cunning in the face of provocation if you're to truly succeed. I'm willing to help you, if you like." 

Her eyes widened. Plainly, she realized that the offer would put her firmly under Daphne's wing. "I would appreciate that," she replied softly. 

"Excellent," she smiled at her. "My aunt Violet arrives after lunch today for our lessons in business and negotiations. You'll join us then." 

Astoria grinned at her and looped her arm with her friend's. "Come along, Sarah. We should finish our charms essays this morning so that we can focus. Aunt Violet's lessons are rigorous." She chattered happily at her friend as they headed for the door. 

"That was kind of you," Tracey murmured. 

As she faced her friend, she spied malevolent glares from Bulstrode and Pucy. "Merely forward thinking," she told her deliberately pitching her voice to be heard. "We can hardly allow such intelligence and motivation to be wasted when Greengrass Holdings is always in need of talent." She left unspoken the fact that the younger girl reminded her of Hermione. _Soft heart and good business are not mutually exclusive, after all._

The inclement weather had Daphne seeking her Gryffindors in the library an hour before lunch. She carefully stepped around the remnants of a dung bomb in the Entrance Hall. She knew better than to try vanishing it. The Weasley twins were notorious for their noxious secondary enchantments. 

The library itself was filled with restless students. Madame Pince had put up a sign that warned all students to silence their table. She spotted Harry and Hermione facing Neville and Ron at a back table. 

Their silencing charm was firmly in place, but, even once she crossed it, they were talking at a low murmur. The library atmosphere encouraged quiet even with magic. "Good morning," she greeted them all. 

"Hello, Daphne," Harry rose and duplicated his chair with a wave of his wand. He eyed the copy suspiciously and gestured for her to take the original. "Have you had a nice morning?" 

She gratefully accepted his offer of the seat between him and Hermione. "It has been eventful." 

Neville's brow crinkled, "Yeah, seems that way. Do you know what actually happened this morning? Rumors are flying but I don't put much faith in them." 

"Wise of you," she affirmed. "The short of it is that Parkinson was complaining loudly about Professor McGonagall and the practical portion of her assignment over Yule." Ron winced at the reminder of the more involved than usual holiday homework. "Sarah Jones offered to help her with it. She is apparently a year ahead in transfiguration already." 

"She attacked someone just for offering to help her?" Neville sounded indignant on the girl's behalf. 

She shook her head. "First, she responded with some vicious insults. It was when Sarah tried to defend herself from that that she got really angry." She glanced regretfully at Hermione. "Parkinson called her a mudblood, and Jones told her she'd rather be that than an inbred leech on society." 

Ron snorted a shocked laugh. "I think I like this girl!" 

Daphne let herself relax for the first time all morning. "It gets better. Pansy called her a few more names so Sarah asked her what the right word was for a stupid cow trying to sell her womb to the highest bidder. According to my sister, Pansy deliberately knocked the girl's plate to the floor and called her a mangy dog." 

Harry nodded, "That's about the time the rest of the Hall realized something was going on." 

She glanced over at him, "Astoria said it got a little chaotic at that point, but Sarah said something about begging for scraps at her own table. That's the when Pansy threw the goblet at her." 

"Scraps at her own table?" Ron sounded confused. "What'd she mean by that?" 

Neville sighed heavily. “Head Malfoy’s made it plain that he’s hoping for the consort contract with House Greengrass. Since the Parkinsons are angling for betrothal with the Malfoys, she could end up under Greengrass primacy.”

“I’ve heard about the contracts, but primacy?” Hermione asked.

He smiled at her, “The Parkinsons don’t hold a family seat in the Wizengamot. Pansy’s father sits a Ministry seat. They also don’t have nearly the fortune of the Malfoys. That’s why if they marry and have children, at least the first born son will be a Malfoy, and the Parkinsons will only get an heir from the union if they have more children. It would all be spelled out in the contract that, given what I’ve heard of their fathers, would probably signed before they’re of age.”

Daphne nodded. “Head Malfoy could dictate her spending allotment, career choices, and where they live. Depending on how the contract was written, he could even dictate her level of involvement in the children’s education. And he’s controlling enough to demand such provisions.”

Across from her, Neville picked up the explanation. “These contracts are what keep the different businesses intact and maintain all the hereditary power of the families. But a contract with Greengrass would guarantee Malfoy a lot of additional influence. He’d probably even agree to right of refusal for Draco’s marriage if it got him what he wanted.”

Hermione gasped in horror, “This sounds even more cold and transactional than everyone made it sound! I can’t imagine my parent’s deciding to dictate my entire future like that just for money!”

She shook head in denial. “Some parents use this to control their children, certainly, but my father considers it a way to protect me and the family. I can hardly be imperiused into marriage the day I turn of age if I’ve got a binding contract in place.” She sighed at the picture painted by the conversation. “If this is what Pansy is angry about, she can rest easy. I’ve no intention of putting up with Draco Malfoy any more than I absolutely must, and my parents have made it clear that my happiness is their key concern.” She left it at that but kept ranting in her head. _As if I would subject myself to any sort of relationship with that egocentric bully! It_ ’ _s bad enough that I_ ’ _ll have business dealings with him._

“It all seems a little old fashioned, don’t you think?” Ron asked. When she looked at him with surprise, he shrugged. “I know that a lot of the ancient families still do this, but it just seems like something from another age. I don’t think my parents had a contract at all, and I know my Prewett side of the family never did an underage betrothal contract. Not even when the Wizengamot first allowed them.”

Neville shrugged. “It makes more sense for some of the families than it does for others, I guess. I think the Longbottoms are the only ones with a hereditary seat that just don’t do underage betrothals at all, but even we usually have some sort of marriage contract.” He addressed Hermione. “How do they do it in the Muggle world?”

“Muggle marriages are defined by the basic laws in place. If a couple divorces, that’s when they would decide how to separate things out.” She pressed her lips together in thought. “In other countries really wealthy families have prenuptial agreements. I guess that would be the closest thing.”

Harry leaned his elbow on the table. “I think I remember seeing something about those on an American show my aunt was watching. The characters acted like it was a bad thing.”

“They do tend to play it up as a trust issue in movies,” she agreed. “Honestly, there are a lot of things that feel very old fashioned in the wizarding world. In the muggle world, most major companies aren’t family owned anymore, and family estates are rather rare.” She tapped a thick book in front of Neville for emphasis.

Daphne's curiosity was split between discussions of the muggle world and the thick book that sat on their table. Once she recognized the book as a photo album, she quickly decided that she could ask Hermione or Harry her questions later. "Neville, are those your photos?" 

He nodded proudly. "It's my Aunt Enid's album of the Potter/Longbottom wedding." 

"Potter/Longbottom?" She asked. 

"Our mums were great friends," Harry explained. "They did a double wedding right on the boundary between our lands." He reached forward and opened the book. Two couples in wedding finery waved happily from the first page, and she set aside politics to enjoy time with her friends.

A few hours later, Daphne sat in a small classroom on the first floor. Most of the pureblood students that intended to attend the Yule Ball had some family lessons so the school had arranged for spaces to accommodate. She leaned back on the sofa that she shared with Tracey and Lavender. Astoria and Sarah listened attentively from the other chairs. 

"When you think of any negotiation, you should think of it as a compromise rather than a competition. You will have certain things that are absolutely necessary and certain things that are beneficial. Your counterpart at the table will have the same." Her Aunt Violet glanced across all of their faces. "The optimal deal to negotiate will have all of both parties necessaries and the most beneficial terms for you. But in order to get there, you must first know what is necessary and beneficial to you. Second, you must try to guess which of the items your counterpart includes in their offers are necessary or merely beneficial to them." 

"But, Mum," Lavender asked. "How do you know which is which?" 

"Research," she answered promptly. "You need to know the other party's financial situation, their short term goals and their long term goals. It also helps to know of any problems you're in a position to help them resolve." She leaned forward to the stack of parchments on the table. "Let's look at the deal we've just finalized for Grass Potioneers." 

Each girl accepted what Aunt Violet handed them. A comparison between her set of parchments and Tracey's told her that they were different. Her aunt continued, "Now, which of you has the St. Mungo's 5 year financials?" 

Daphne gestured to herself. "I do." 

"Excellent, review them and give us a brief summary," She instructed. 

She skimmed over the neat sets of figures, grateful for her mother's lessons last year on reading such statements. "They turned a profit each year, but..." Something looked off. She followed the numbers along. "Their expenses are rising faster than their revenue. It's not by much, but if it keeps up they will have trouble." 

"Exactly," she looked around the room. "Who has the Wizengamot transcript from last November?" 

Astoria waved to her. 

"Give it a read through and tell us what you notice?" She said. 

Her sister began skimming down the parchment. Occasionally, she leaned over and whispered to Sarah. Daphne felt a warm glow at the sight. _I've had Tracey and Lavender to share my lessons with for years. It's good for her to have someone of her own._

"The plaintiff," she started slowly, "insisted that their child's treatment was prolonged due to an insufficient potion dosage. St. Mungo's defended that they provided the standard dosage for the child's age and weight." She ruffled through the pages. "There are some tables and things that they provided as evidence." 

"Very good, Astoria," She praised. "Flip to the back and tell us the Wizengamot's findings." 

She read the words under her breath. "It's a little complicated, but I think they found that the potion itself was the problem?" 

"The Wizengamot's findings can be a bit dense to be sure." Her aunt smiled encouragingly. "But she is right, the finding was that the potion provider had cut quality of ingredients and equipment, including thinner cauldrons. Because their quality validation process was insufficient, they had sold less potent potions to the hospital." 

Tracey gasped in horror. "People could have died!" 

Aunt Violet nodded in agreement and asked a follow up question, but Daphne was focused on the financials in her hand. _Something doesn't fit. They were brought to the Wizengamot last year, but their legal expenses had been going up steadily. Their overall cost per patient was increasing..._ She chewed her lip in thought. _It could be personnel cost, but..._

"Aunt Violet," she shot Lavender an apologetic look for the interruption. "How many times has St. Mungo's been sued in the past 5 years?" 

She beamed with pride at her, and Daphne knew that she had hit upon something important. "St. Mungo's has been sued 34 times in the past 5 years. 22 of those suits were from patients that required primarily potion based treatment. Additionally, the number of suits has been going up each year." She glanced around at their small group. "Bobbin's Apothecaries overall has an excellent reputation, however, their rapid expansion over the past few years led to a drop in overall quality at several of their workshops. Grass Potioneers, once we identified the problem, approached the St. Mungo's Purchasing Governor and brought the connection to their attention." 

Sarah looked horrified, "Why didn't they identify it themselves?" 

"The issue was only with a few workshops functioning under a particular manager. Without a complete picture, they didn't know which potions to test. And so they did not identify the persistent quality issue." She waited for them to respond to that. 

"Only one manager?" Sarah asked slowly. "Was he stealing from them?" 

Aunt Violet's eyes widened, "I see why Daphne and Astoria insisted upon your cleverness, my dear!" She looked at all of them. "The manager was indeed embezzling. That scandal has been dealt with quietly by Bobbin's but it led to a severe trust issue between them and St. Mungos, and that is where Grass Potioneers was able to step in." 

Tracey spoke up, "What happened to the manager that was stealing?" 

"Walter Runcorn was fired from Bobbin's, but neither they nor his family wanted him to go up on charges. The publicity would have been quite harmful." She shrugged at that. "His elder brother Albert seems to have paid to hush the whole thing up, but St. Mungo's was no longer willing to work with Bobbin's. We started negotiations on an exclusive contract with them. One of you should have that first draft." 

Sarah nearly bounced as she announced that she had it. As the girl reviewed the contract, conferring with Astoria, Daphne considered her and reflected. _She may have let her anger get the better of her today with Pansy, but she is clever, astute and ruthless. She found and exploited Pansy's weaknesses without hesitation. Now we just have to teach her to channel those qualities. Auntie Violet will be the perfect mentor for her._

The day before Yule, Daphne moved gracefully through the steps of a waltz with her lovely Hermione in her arms. The hecticness of their holiday meant that this was the first time they had been able to spend any real time alone. _Though, thanks to Harry, no one looks askance at my presence with his little clutch of friends._

"What are you thinking of so loudly?" Her partner asked. 

She chuckled at the question. "I was just thinking that it's rather nice of Harry to always offer me the seat between him and you. I may not be able to hold your hand, but at least I can sit with you." 

She tilted her head up to meet her eyes. "I like sitting with you too." 

She set aside all thoughts of the world outside their room and lost herself in Hermione's warm brown eyes. "You are so lovely." She brushed a kiss to her forehead. "You have such creamy soft skin." She swept her hand up her back to bury her hand in her curls. "Such fantastically untamable hair..." 

Hermione blushed and broke her gaze. "I'm glad that you think so..." 

"Your hair is wonderful," she insisted. "It's soft and wild. The color is a perfect contrast." Teasingly, she pressed a kiss into the nest corkscrews. "It smells like vanilla." 

As she hoped, her girlfriend shed her self-consciousness and giggled. "You'll have to sit down for me to try the same, but I think you're beautiful too." She met her eyes. "You have such soft lips and a perfect nose. And you're just tall enough for me to do this." She shifted from their close waltz and tucked herself into her embrace. One lock of hair spiraled up to tickle her nose, but she ignored it and held her girl tighter. 

Three songs later, it was time to head to the Great Hall for dinner. The girls reluctantly parted and tried to keep their good bye short. It was after a few breathless kisses that she finally walked toward the secret passage to their room. As an extra caution, Hermione twirled a borrowed invisibility cloak around her shoulders. With halfhearted wave, she pulled it closed and disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any errors. I had less time to polish this chapter as I was unable to get an writing done this weekend.  
> The last chapter will post a day late as I'm having to rewrite the last few scenes. Sorry for the issue.


	36. Dancing the Yule Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas/Yule Ball

The whispers in the Slytherin fourth year girl's dorm stopped the instant Daphne entered. She pointedly ignored Parkinson and Bulstrode clustered together at an empty vanity. She surveyed her bed and table but nothing had been disturbed. _It's difficult to rest easy with those two around. Somehow it's been worse since they've gone silent the past two days._

Feeling stubborn, she refused to be run from her own dorm. She had time before she needed to meet Tracey in the common room so she pulled a book from her night table and sat on her bed to read. It seemed as though she could feel malevolent glares from the opposite end of the room, but she refused to look up. 

After a few minutes of rereading her favorite passages of poetry, she heard her hostile roommates leave. The tension in the room left with them, and Daphne pulled a parchment from her drawer. She transcribed the short sonnet she had selected onto the page, and folded it neatly. _Not as pretty as Hermione's origami, but it'll have to do._

Her note went into her robe pocket, and she checked her hair out of habit. On a whim, she added a dab of lip color and a pair of earrings that matched her ever-present charm bracelet. She straightened her uniform and headed for the common room to meet Tracey. 

Her friend, waiting for her beside the fireplace, stood to greet her. "You look nice. Where have you been all afternoon?" 

"I found a quiet place to read a bit," she answered truthfully but failed to suppress her smile at the private joke. 

Tracey gave her an odd look, "Well, I bumped into Harry on my way to common room. He said he would wait for us in the Entrance Hall." 

"Excellent," she replied. "Shall we?" 

The two friends started up from the dungeons occasionally passing other Slytherins going back down to the common room. "Daphne, are you excited for the compendium coming out? You've not mentioned it since term ended last week." 

"Nervous more than excited," she told her. "The first edition will come out tomorrow for all pre-orders and then we're to have the Yule revision posted by new year. It's only a week to get everything written and approved by the champions. We had weeks to get the other content complete." 

"But Daphne, a large part of that time was negotiating the contracts. And Mr. Herald said that the approval process will go faster now that you've a trial run of it." She encouraged her enthusiastically. "I think the revision process will go brilliantly! And it will provide an excellent counterpoint to whatever nonsense Skeeter posts in the Prophet." 

"Thank you, Tracey," she turned to face her. "You're a wonderful friend, and you always know just what to say to make me feel better." 

Her eyes moistened a bit at the compliment, "You're a fabulous friend too, Daphne. I'm grateful to have you." 

She accepted her best friend's warm hug and tamped down the guilt that tried to rise over keeping secrets from her. When they broke to start walking again, she focused on warm gratitude. _I've got several wonderful friends and a girl that I adore. The worries of petty plotting girls and publication schedules can't be allowed to tarnish that._

In the Entrance Hall, they found Harry joined by Hermione, Ron and Lavender. The Gryffindors were chatting animatedly about some prank that had been played on the Weasley Twins. Whatever had happened had impressed them all. _I'll have to get the whole story later, though. It's almost time for dinner._

Harry turned from his housemates to greet her. She palmed the poem she had transcribed earlier and offered it with her hand to kiss. Warm lips pressed gently against her knuckles and the note disappeared in his pocket. She knew he would get it to Hermione later. 

"Daphne, you look very nice this evening, but I can't tell what's different." Harry candidly told her even as Ron tried to hiss that he was never supposed to admit that. 

She rolled her eyes at his friend and answered honestly. "I just decided to take a little extra care getting freshened up for dinner this evening, that's all." 

"Yeah, Harry," Lavender teased. "Most people don't have to invent a hair tonic just to keep from looking like we've stepped from a wind storm." 

He barked out a laugh, "All users of my grandfather's invention should be grateful for the Potter hair. Without this unruliness, you would have nothing!" 

Not to be outdone, she retorted, "Maybe you should use a bit of Sleekeazy's on your hair for the ball tomorrow in honor of Grandfather Potter!" 

She laughed at her cousin, "Don't let her fool you, Harry! Grass Potioneer's owns the formula and exclusive rights to distribute the stuff. She's just trying a bit of sly marketing." 

As she took Harry's offered arm, she saw a thoughtful crinkle on Hermione's face. "Lavender, is that stuff really that good? I've thought about trying it, but nothing's ever worked on my hair before." 

Daphne cringed at the idea of her lovely locks being slicked and sleeked into submission, but she held her tongue. Fortunately, her cousin's answer assuaged her worries. "Hermione, I've told you a million times that there are witches that spell their heads bald trying to get the sort of curl you wake up with. At least for tomorrow, will you let me style your hair? Please?" 

"I really don't want to be any trouble, Lavender," she demurred. 

"Honestly, Hermione," she shot back. "Think of it as good marketing on my part. You'll be in dozens of pictures of the Ball tomorrow. What sort of business woman would I be to pass up such publicity?" 

As they bantered and chatted their way toward the Great Hall, Daphne thought she felt a rancorous gaze follow her. She made an effort to ignore it, but Harry turned his head that direction and glowered. "Have you had a run in with Adrian Pucey lately?" 

The name surprised her answer from her, "No, not lately." 

"Maybe it's me he's trying to kill with that look." He chuckled. "Surely he would know that it takes more than that to do me in." 

She dutifully laughed along with him but made up her mind to keep Tracey close the rest of the holiday. _He's already proven that he holds a grudge and can be very dangerous. Anything he does would be far worse than the shoddy curse from Bulstrode._ His hostile glare followed them all the way into the Hall. 

* * *

Harry woke early Christmas morning to the smell of tea, cocoa, and fresh baked pastries. His roommates were stirring and mumbling as he fumbled for his glasses. Dobby sat on the end of his bed happily swinging his feet. "Master Harry Potter, sir! We broughts little breakfast for yous and yours friends!" 

He smiled at the excited elf but was still confused. "Wow, Dobby! That's kind of you, but who is we?" 

"Dobby and Winky popped in early with breakfast in the common room! Wes also brought your gifts down to the common room for yous." He bounced as though he was anticipating an influx of happy magic. 

"That's really nice of you Dobby," he said as he tried to wake up the rest of the way. "I'll get the guys up and meet you downstairs, alright?" 

"Sees you there, Master Harry Potter!" He squeaked before he disappeared. 

He swung his feet over to the floor and looked around at his groggy dorm-mates. "Happy Christmas! Up and out! I'm told that we've breakfast and gifts in the common room." He pitched his voice to be heard and knew it worked when he heard murmurs from around the room. 

He left them all to it and grabbed his clothes on the way to the bathroom. His stomach grumbled at the appetizing smells wafting up the stairs, and he decided to hurry through his morning routine. The shower steamed as he stepped in and began to wash. Leaving the mindless tasks to muscle memory, he envisioned the time he spent studying the patronus charm. "I delight in magic and learn all I can about it." 

He had struggled a bit when Uncle Algie had proposed that as part of his mental boundaries. After all, he knew that he found theory dry and boring. He was just as bad about procrastinating as Ron when it was something he disliked. _But I can focus on times that it was true because it's something that I want to be true about myself. Feels a bit like cheating, but Uncle Algie did say that people are inconsistent by nature._

Harry finished his shower and dressed in record time. He passed several of his roommates on the way to the bathroom. He grabbed a few things from his trunk and hurried downstairs to the common room, calling out behind him, "Well hurry up then," in response to his roommates' questions. 

The other early risers murmured over cups of tea and cocoa as Winky and Dobby manically popped around the room organizing piles of gifts. They had already set up a long banquet table along one wall of the room that was heavily laden with breakfast foods. The students that had stayed over holiday before were bemused by the difference in routine. 

"Yous should gets your breakfasts and sits next to yours presents, but wait to opens them." Winky squeaked out orders like a tiny general, and Harry was stunned at the difference in her. 

The sleepy and confused Gryffindors followed instructions, queuing up at the table to get something to eat. Dobby happily directed them all to their piles of gifts. To Harry's surprise, they had made an effort to cluster friends and family so that requests to move were minimal. 

"Missy Hermione!" Dobby called out. He quickly finished his task and popped over to her for a hug. "Yous can get some foods. I put yours gifts next to Master Harry's!" 

He popped away, and she stepped to table next to him. As they served themselves a plate, he grinned at her bewildered shock. "Is that our Winky? She looks energized." She whispered the observation as though afraid to break a spell. 

"Whatever brought about the change, I like it," he told her. "We'll have to see what we can do to keep it going." 

They took their plates to join Neville, Ron and the Creevey brothers. The muggle born boys looked gobsmacked by the entire event and drank in the explanations the Neville offered. "As for that one, I'm not sure." He looked to Harry as he sat. "Harry, who are they? I've never stayed over hols but I've not heard about anything like this." 

He grinned at the chance to explain things to someone else for a change. "So, the little one in blue is Winky. She and Dobby came to work for Hogwarts a few months ago." He looked around at the clusters of teens chatting and eating. "This is new to me too. I think maybe they did it because we're friends with them, but I'll have to ask to be sure." 

Once the last of them was seated with a plate and their gifts, Winky and Dobby popped in front of the fire place. "Happy Yule! Yous can opens your gifts and eats as much you like!" 

The round of applause from the groups was spontaneous and heart felt. Both elves vibrated with excitement. Before they could disappear, Hermione called to them. "Winky! Dobby! Sit with us, please!" 

"Oh, Missy Hermione!" Dobby's eyes danced, as he told her, "Wes can hardly stands to be still with such happy magics!" 

She laughed and pulled them both in for a hug. "We won't keep you, but I wanted to give your gifts!" 

They both gasped out loud as she pulled out two prettily wrapped packages. Their personalities were on show when Dobby ripped into his paper with glee while Winky carefully unfolded hers. The gray and blue blankets they unwrapped looked warm and soft. 

Hermione said hesitantly "My gran taught me to knit a few years ago, and I thought you might like a blanket for your nests." 

Winky's eyes filled with tears, and she flung herself into Hermione's arms. It was the first time he'd ever seen the little elf initiate affection. _I hope this means she's getting better. She didn't deserve the way she was treated. Neither of them did._

He dug into his expanded robe pockets, grateful that Hermione had told him she was giving them each Christmas gifts. As soon as Dobby pulled back from his own hug, Harry held out two messily wrapped gifts with their names on them. "I'm not as skilled as Hermione, but I hope you like what I got you." 

The elves gasped happily, and he tried to ignore the looks coming their way from the rest of their housemates. Dobby unwrapped his present to find a child sized shirt and trousers. He squealed in delight, "Master Harry Potter sir got me muggle style clothes! They be wonderful!" 

Harry accepted his hug and made mental note to send Remus a thank you card for going shopping for him. Winky stared in awe and confusion at the shimmering metal box in her hands. 

Before he could reach to show her how it worked, Dennis Creevey piped up, "It’s a music box!" He scooted over to her and opened it up. The quiet song tinkled out into the room, nearly drowned out by the noisy room full of teenagers. "There should be a winder on the bottom." 

Her tearful eyes overflowed, and she was hugging him tight. "Yous got me music? Thanks yous so much!" 

His heart swelled with joy at having made her happy. This was shaping up to be the best Christmas of his life. 

* * *

The morning was subdued in Slytherin house. Daphne awoke to find her sister and Sarah perched at the end of her bed. Tracey rubbed sleep from her eyes in the bunk next to hers. Between their bunks was a table with a pile of gifts and a covered tray. 

"Happy Yule, Daphne!" Astoria grinned at her while Sarah looked around curiously. 

"Happy Yule, Astoria, Sarah," she greeted before yawning. "What's all this?" She waved at the laden table. 

"We aren't sure," Sarah replied. "Everyone has gifts at their bed, but you're the only with a tray." 

Tracey stretched, "I hope your house elf friend brought us breakfast!" She lifted the cover to find her wish granted. 

The four girls served themselves and got comfortable on the two beds. "I'll play mum and hand out gifts," Astoria volunteered. She happily doled out presents until each girl had to place their cups and plates on the bare table to make space. "Our family tradition is to start opening all the presents at once. Last one done has to clean the mess." 

She grinned at her sister. "Since you played mum, I'll play dad." She pulled a quill from her bedside drawer. "Once this hits the ground, you can start." 

Paper ripped and flew around her. Just like her father always had, she opened her gifts slowly and took time to admire each item. Sarah eyes her quizzically, but Tracey only laughed, "You really did mean to play Uncle Cyrus today!" 

She set the gifts from her parents and other relatives aside in favor of opening her gift from her sister. "Thank you, Astoria," she told her at the sight of a slim volume of poetry. 

Working through Tracey and Sarah's gifts next, she thanked them both sincerely. The folded paper frog she set aside to unfold and read later. Next she unwrapped a lovely green and gold scarf from Hermione. The subtle combination of Slytherin and Gryffindor colors made her smile. 

Last, she studied the lone unwrapped present. It was a polished wooden box with her name engraved on the top. She opened it to find a simple but well-made inkwell with several nice quills. A stack of heavy grade parchment sat next to it. 

Tracey gasped, "Is that from Harry? He does know what that means, doesn't he?" 

She admired the high quality custom stationary. As she traced the watermark of her initials, words appeared on the top page. 

> Daphne, 
> 
> This custom stationary was treated with a special formula invented by my dad and his friends. You can use it as normal stationary, but, by tapping your wand to the parchment and saying "Keep my secrets," the words already written will be only visible to you, me and Hermione. 
> 
> Remus suggested writing secret messages first then writing ordinary ones over top. (Don't worry, I had to send him something we had each written, but I didn't tell him who the people other than me were.) 
> 
> I know that other people will talk because this is an old courtship gift, but it's just so useful I went with it anyway. Use it however you like, but if you need more of the parchment, I'll need a little notice since I don't know how to do the treatment. 
> 
> Merry Christmas and I'll see you tonight. 
> 
> Harry 

She smiled at the thoughtful gift and looked up at Tracey, "He knows." Deciding to test it, she held up the note he had written. 

"Oh! It's even monogrammed! That's lovely!" She grinned happily, and Daphne mirrored it. 

From the other side of the room, Parkinson's nasal voice called, "Come on, Millicent, we'll get no peace with all this chaos. Let's go open our gifts in the common room with Draco and Adrian. Then we can all walk up to breakfast." 

The door slamming behind them did nothing to dim Daphne's happy mood. She put her sulking roommates from her mind and opened up the gifts from her parents next. 

* * *

In the Great Hall, the Compendium was the primary topic of conversation. The students that had received one as a Yule gift shared with those that did not have one. For the Gryffindors, breakfast in the Hall was a chance to catch up with their friends from other houses. She initially worried that Harry's place in the glossy book would reignite jealousies, but the special service from Dobby and Winky had generated enormous goodwill among their housemates. 

"Hermione, I figured you'd be buried reading this book or already quoting it! You feeling alright?" Ron's tone was teasing as he flipped through Neville's copy. 

"I gave up my place in the pre-order when they filled up," she informed him. "I helped Harry approve most of his sections, and Lavender promised to let me borrow her copy for now." 

His bright smile dimmed, "I could have helped review things if you'd asked. You two barely mentioned the book to me." 

Neville pinched his lips tight from across Ron before he commented, "This tournament's been a bit of a sore spot for all of you. Can't blame your friends for not wanting to poke at it." 

She held her breath and hoped he would accept that. _I can't handle more arguments, especially not today._

Seamus interrupted them, "Hey Ron, you made Harry's bio! Listen to this! 'Outside of studies and Quidditch, Harry's favorite pastimes include exploring the castle and grounds of Hogwarts, flying his Firebolt, and losing at chess to his best mate, Ron Weasley." 

A grin bloomed across his face, "Wow! Thanks, mate, for doing that!" 

Harry smiled at him and shrugged bashfully. "It's true." 

She stood with her friends and enjoyed their comments on the various articles. Dennis proudly pointed out his brother's credited photos. The only thing she missed in that moment was having Daphne there with her. 

She turned to look for her girlfriend but found Lavender instead. "Hermione, did you wash your hair this morning?" 

"No, I was planning to wait until after lunch," she explained. 

"And use a drying charm?" She sounded horrified. "You'll need to wash it now so that it can dry naturally, otherwise we'll have to use loads of Sleekeazy and it'll ruin the look I plan to go for!" 

She tilted her head in confusion, "Are drying charms bad somehow?" 

"Not inherently," she replied, "but for formal styles they can cause a problem. Come on, we'll both go wash our hair now and then we can find a spot to meet some of the other girls for a bit of pampering. Ron got me some fingernail paint for Yule." She sent him a warm smile that he failed to notice. 

Hermione gave in to the force of nature that was Lavender in this mood. "Well, you boys enjoy. Seems we're going to start getting ready for the ball now." 

"This early?" Ron addressed them both. "You've got hours!" 

"Ron," Lavender replied haughtily, "beauty takes time." 

"Ok, uh" he either knew to stop arguing or he saw the exaggerated signals his sister was sending him. "I'll meet you by the trophy room?" 

She followed meekly after Lavender and resolved to put herself in her roommate's capable hands. By the time she sat on her bed in their dorm two hours later, her head was swimming with information about caring for and styling curly hair. _To hear her tell it, I've been doing everything wrong with my hair since I was five._

She allowed Lavender to use a wide toothed comb on her wet hair and tried to ask thoughtful questions. All she could really think of was, "How do you know all this?" 

"Tracey's mum writes a beauty column for Teen Witch Weekly. She has prodigious curls," she happily explained. "I asked her for suggestions with your hair a few weeks ago in hopes you would let me try them out." 

Somehow, the deliberate effort on her part made Hermione feel special and cared for. "Thank you, Lavender." _Maybe this is what it would be like to have a sister?_

A little while later, she found herself volunteering her study room for pampering and ball preparations. She might have declared herself mad if not for the presence of Daphne with her. Her experience with muggle fingernail polish helped her impress her clutch of female friends. 

* * *

When they entered the ball, Viktor was a steadying presence at her side. Somehow the attention she normally received as Harry's friend or sought out for her academics was very different from the stunned gazes she received from many of her fellow Hogwarts students. _As if they thought I'd show up in my uniform carrying a stack of books,_ she thought. 

The champions' table was reasonably central and added to her sense of being on exhibit. She forced herself to ignore it and focus on her company. As they finished eating, the teens relaxed into their conversations. 

"I think the compendium has turned out beautifully, Daphne." Cho complimented from across the table. "It's a credit to everyone involved." 

Daphne glowed even more at the comment. "Thank you, Cho. We're all very proud of the book." 

"I was impressed with Creevey's photos from the 1st task," Cedric remarked. "I wish we had gotten him to photo some of our Quidditch matches." 

"He actually did photograph a few games last year, Cedric," Harry told him. "He said it was to show his dad what Quidditch was really like, but the photos turned out so good he let Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch frame a few." 

She thought back a moment, "I don't think he took any at the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match though. He doesn't like taking his camera out in the rain." 

"I'll ask if he'll show them to me anyway," he replied. "My dad would love a few shots of me playing for the team." 

Headmaster Dumbledore stood to catch everyone's attention. "Good evening! Happy Yule and Merry Christmas to you all!" At this signal, the plates from their table disappeared. "Now that we have filled our stomachs, it is time to welcome The Weird Sisters to our stage and our champions to open the dance!" 

The center of the hall visibly expanded and a stage with The Weird Sisters faded into place before them. She leaned to Daphne with a whisper, "How do you think they did that? Where they always there and just disillusioned? Maybe a combination of transfiguration and charms?" 

Harry grinned widely at her but Daphne took her question seriously as she always did, "I can think of a few ways that it would work, but the wards of Hogwarts eliminate apperating... Maybe something like a vanishing cabinet but in the form of a stage?" Fleur listened to the both of them with a look of surprise, but the rest of their companions knew her, or knew of her, well enough to take the discussion in stride. 

"Vell, we shall have to ask them," Viktor told her simply as he rose and offered his hand. "What is use of being friends with celebrity triwizard champion if you cannot get moment to talk with performers?" 

She might have taken his comment the wrong way had she not seen him wink at Harry. Instead, she teased him back. "Oh, of course, an audience with The Weird Sisters is certainly a perk of being your friend, Viktor." 

She tucked her hand into his elbow and walked with him to the dance floor. At their side, Harry took her Daphne's hand, and she felt a pang at the sight. She gave herself the luxury of one longing look before she turned her attention back on her date. _You can steal as many dances and kisses with her tomorrow and any day after. Enjoy this time with your friend._ When she stepped into the motions of the waltz, she ignored the photographers, onlookers and other dancers. Instead she focused on her friend and let the music flow through her. 

* * *

Daphne accepted the cool glass of water he brought her and tucked her hand back into his elbow. As silly as he had felt when they first started play acting as a couple, he had grown accustomed to her presence at his side. "Would you mind if we take a break from dancing?" He asked her hopefully. "I've gotten a bit warm." _Bit warm is an understatement! I thought I was going to burn up from embarrassment when my hands started sweating!_

Hermione chimed in, "I think a break sounds wonderful. Even with the charms Lavender cast on my shoes, I'm regretting wearing heels." 

His date chuckled at that, "Perhaps now you see the benefit considering height with your date. Afterall, heels would have put me noticeably taller than Harry, and I couldn't allow that." 

"I'd have had to ask a 3rd year to find a boy my height," she joked. 

Viktor only smiled indulgently at all of them. "Perhaps we walk in the fairy garden? Give Harry and I chance to cool, and perhaps we find quiet place to rest your feet?" 

He looked to Daphne for her opinion, "That sounds wonderful, Viktor. I even see my sister and her friend heading out with their dates. My aunt Violet wants a photo this evening so it's a good chance to remind them." 

They all walked together into the beautiful twinkling grotto. He found himself wondering about the magic involved but decided not to break the peaceful mood as the four of them walked together. Viktor seemed to have a destination in mind, and the girls were relieved when he led them all to a small secluded bench. 

Eyeing the stone, Harry cast a cushioning and warming charm on it before he gestured to Daphne in a manner that he hoped look gallant. "Mademoiselle, would you care to rest a moment?" Her laugh told him that he missed the mark, but she sat anyway. Hermione sat next to her and closed her eyes in apparent relief. 

"Harry," Viktor started. "I will show you useful spell chain for when Daphne is no longer taller." 

He laughed at the teasing and watched the older boy kneel before their dates. Hermione started to protest when he removed her shoes, but the relief had her melt against Daphne instead. _They look so pretty tucked together like that. I wish I had Collin's camera to take a picture._

He focused on Viktor and tried to commit the numbing and healing spell chain to memory. He could tell that it worked when Hermione grinned at them and wiggled her bare toes. 

Even though he knew the core spells, he mirrored the chain on Daphne's feet as practice. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "I didn't even realize how tired my feet were until you did that. Will it work with shoes on? Can you cast it on yourself?" 

"Casting on self... that work less well, but not at all with shoes on. Enchantments on shoes block spell." He laughed self-consciously as he rose. "I not cast on myself here. Pretty girl shoes breath more than boy shoes." 

Harry wiggled his toes in his sweaty socks and chuckled. "That is very true!" 

The girls put their shoes back on, obviously refreshed. "Viktor, I think you'll need to show me that chain soon. I could be the most popular girl in Gryffindor with it!" Hermione stood and tucked her hand into his elbow. 

As he offered Daphne his hand, she looked beyond them. "There's Sarah and Justin. If we can catch them, she'll let Astoria know about the photo." 

Amenable to her plan, the four tracked a circuitous route past garlanded statues of reindeer. The fairy lights created moving shadows, and he was grateful that his eyes had had a chance to adjust. They did their best to ignore sounds that implied romantic encounters, but he was vaguely horrified by the sound of Ludo Bagman attempting to whisper to a shadowed companion. 

Ahead of them he recognized another teen couple skulking along. _Something's off. Who is that?_ The boy had his wand at the ready, and Harry's instincts rang out a warning. Before he could disarm him, Hermione called out, "Accio Adrian's shoes!" 

Pucey's shoes whipped backward, pulling the older boy off his feet. He slammed face first into the ground as his spell cast high. A decorated tree branch crashed to the ground. Viktor, with his seeker's reflexes, snatched the shoes before they could smash into his date's face. 

Sarah Jones and Justin Finch-Fletchley were among the people that scurried over to the commotion. Snape spoke first, his voice carrying out, "What's all this? Pucey, explain yourself!" 

"I miscast a spell, sir," he insisted, his voice nasal due to his bloodied nose. "Millicent was asking me about useful spells for OWLs, and..." He looked down, apparently chagrined. "I guess I should have focused more on the spell than impressing my date." 

Harry chalked Snape's suspicious glare up to the light. "Your miscast spell destroyed a tree and bloodied your nose?" 

"Only the tree, sir," the older Slytherin stuck to his story despite the fact that several people there knew he had deliberately cast what appeared to be a powerful cutting curse. "Lucky for me, Krum is as quick on the ground as he is on a broom." The boy gestured to his shoes which Viktor still held by the laces. "Though I wish he would have cast a cushioning charm to save my face." He had a dark edge to his voice, and his smile did not reach his eyes. 

Viktor tossed his shoes to land at his feet. "I did not consider. At Durmstrang, pain is part of teaching." 

Snape sneered at all of them, and Harry had the sense that he doubted every word of the story he was being fed. "Bulstrode, help your date to the hospital wing. The rest of you, get back inside." 

Harry ignored the murmuring of his date and his friends. He mulled over the encounter as he let his feet carry him along the path. It was only when Daphne called his name insistently that he focused back on the moment. "Sorry, I was thinking. What is wrong?" 

"What isn't wrong, Harry?" She whispered. He leaned closer to hear her. "Pucey thinks he can attack my aunt's protégé with impunity. Professor Snape, who wasn't at the ball, shows up in the garden. Skeeter is nowhere to be found which means she's hiding terrifyingly well." 

At a loss for what to say, he pulled her into his arms for a hug. Her tight return embrace told him how upset she was by the near hit to her sister's friend. While she buried her head in his shoulder, he met Hermione's worried eyes. "C'mon, Daphne. We'll figure it out. I promise," he soothed as best he could. 

An hour later, he had been dragged before a photographer for a series of photos and teased by Ron for finding trouble instead of kisses in the garden. While The Weird Sisters were taking a break, Hermione spoke animatedly with the production wizard. He sipped his water, grateful for the cold relief washing down his throat. 

Daphne slipped an arm around his waist and tiredly dropped her head on his shoulder. "You're a good person, Harry." 

He set his arm at her waist and glanced down at her in confusion. "I'm glad you think so?" 

She chuckled but gave no verbal reply. Instead, they stood to the side of the dance floor with their arms around each other and watched as their friends, teachers and acquaintances mingled in the music free hall. 

When The Weird Sisters walked back to their stage and instruments, a laughing Lavender dragged Ron to the dance floor. The band queued up for their last set, and Daphne looked at him expectantly. On impulse, he grabbed the hand opposite him and kissed it. "Dance with me?" 

They moved back to the dance floor, and he pulled her into his arms. Impetuously, he swung their joined hands above his head and twirled her fast. When she faced him again, he dipped her deeply and delighted in her laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of part 1. I realize that I used a different POV style here, but I found that my old writing style was unduly limiting as the story went on. I hope the change wasn't too jarring.  
> Check the series page for updates on Part 2, and thanks for reading!


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